Prim, the Tribute
by NadineBrandes
Summary: Katniss is too old to volunteer for Prim. Prim gets reaped and goes to the Games with Peeta - the boy who seems to know her older sister. Prim doesn't want to kill anyone, but she doesn't want to let her sister down, either. She can't give up, but she refuses to become a monster. (Told from Prim's POV - unique to Prim's character)
1. Chpt 1 - The Reaping

**This is my first piece of fanfic! I'd love to hear your thoughts and hopefully I'll deliver a good story. :)**

Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins, nor do I own any rights to The Hunger Games series.

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**1**

Prim planted a kiss on the squashed face of her cat, Buttercup. "I wish I could take you with to the reaping."

"_I_ wish he could be reaped instead of you." Katniss, dressed in Mother's lovely blue dress, winked just as Prim looked up in horror.

"Oh don't, Katniss. He'll think we don't like him." She rubbed behind his ears. Just one more kiss. His fur tickled Prim's nose and she giggled.

"Come on, little duck." Katniss tucked the in back of Prim's blouse, her movements a little jerkier than normal. Prim tried not to squirm, but the pile of worms in her stomach didn't help.

"What if it's me?" Her voice was less than a whisper—more like a thought that escaped in a wayward bubble of sound.

Silence.

"Katniss?" Prim looked up.

Katniss's adam's apple bobbed and she ran a hand over Prim's hair. "Your name is only in there once. Besides, I'll take care of you. I'll be right there with Mother, watching and protecting you."

The Hunger Games. How had Katniss stood through the reapings for six whole years and not turned completely gray? Well, if she could do it, so could Prim. Two kids were going to be sent to the Hunger Games today, and Prim pocketed the two goat cheeses she made for the families who'd be mourning the loss.

She didn't tell Katniss. Sometimes Katniss viewed Prim's generosity as waste, especially if the goat cheese went to a wealthy family. But Prim couldn't imagine bidding farewell to Katniss or to Mother…or even Buttercup. She had to give the mourners _something._

Goat cheese helped anything.

Maybe, while they sat in the pockets of her skirt, they'd bring her luck at the reaping….

…or maybe not.

Prim couldn't bear the weight of this moment. She stuck her bottom lip out, hoping a fake pout would loosen the knots in her veins. "I wish I was nineteen, like you, about to get married to a handsome miner." And safe from the reaping.

Katniss's light laugh sounded forced. "Don't let Gale hear you say that, he might change his mind and marry _you_ instead."

Prim made a face. "He's too old. Besides, I'd never go hunting with him like you do." Her lip quivered at the memory of when Katniss tried to teach her how to hunt. Her big sister was such a good shot with the bow and arrow, but Prim couldn't bear to see the animals wounded.

"Time to go."

Prim slipped her small hand into Katniss's. Her sister's skin was a lifeline to courage. They reached the square far too soon. _Be brave. Be strong._ Like Katniss. She tried not to watch as Katniss walked away to stand beside Mother and her fiancé Gale.

_We'll be apart for only an hour. One hour. _Prim's chin quivered. What if she was reaped and never got to see the wedding?

She filed in line with her classmates and all the other twelve-year-olds from District Twelve. The sun beat down, burning her skin and sending droplets of sweat from her brow to her temples. The other kids in her line stood stiff with wide eyes. Pale, despite their tans.

Did Prim look like that?

What if she was reaped and she had to—gulp—_kill_ someone in the arena? She couldn't. She'd die first. Prim's eyes flitted upward, despite her attempt to be courageous, until they landed on Katniss again. Deep breath. Katniss was there. Katniss would protect her.

The terror was so thick in Prim's mind that she didn't even notice the usual video about Panem's rise to power and the rebellion of District Thirteen. She barely heard the clack of Effie Trinket's beautiful heels as she climbed the platform. She hardly registered, "Ladies first!" until Effie's hand swirled around in the giant fishbowl of names.

Then Prim startled—startled from the memory of why she stood in line, of what might come in the next three seconds. No. Please. _Not me! Not...anybody!_

Effie's manicured fingers latched on to a piece of paper. Prim gasped for breath. It wasn't enough. She needed more air. Her vision swirled—she couldn't bear this tension. _Not me! Not me!_

Effie pulled out the paper, unfolded it, and smiled. "Primrose Everdeen!"

Prim's knees buckled, but the terror evaporated. Now she knew. No more waiting, no more wondering. She was going into the Hunger Games.

And she would die.

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**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	2. Chpt 2 - Prim

****2****

__Be strong.__

Prim clenched her fists at her side and forced her feet to move. The crowd murmured—they didn't sound happy. Each foot she managed to place before the next jolted her body like a gong.

__It's me.__

"No!" The strangled croak could only be Katniss.

Prim didn't look. She couldn't look. She'd be strong like her sister. __Better that it's me than it is someone else.__ The thought brought little comfort.

"Come on up, dear." Effie Trinket held out a hand as Prim reached the platform. Prim used to gape at Effie's clothes, wishing she could wear nice things—or just see them up close. Now they were too close. Prim would rather be back in their dusty house, cuddling dirty old Buttercup, never wearing a nice thing again.

"No!" Katniss screamed.

Prim's gaze jerked up to meet her sister's. Katniss clawed toward the platform, but Gale held her back. Peacekeepers marched toward her. They'd hurt Katniss if she didn't stop soon. Prim lifted her chin, holding Katniss's wild gaze. __It's okay. It's okay. I can be brave, too.__

She trembled and took Effie's hand. Her skin was cold and her long nails scraped Prim's palm. If only it were Mom's hand she was holding.

Mom stood beside Katniss and Gale, clutching a handkerchief between her hands, paler than all the kids at the reaping. Prim looked away.

"Well, Bravo!" Effie clapped alone, the sound echoing until she finally had the sense to stop.

The stage felt...alone. Prim bit her lip, trying not to look at her friends from school, or at Katniss who had sunk to her knees, or at the drunken Haymitch who didn't seem to realize what was going on. But, as usual, whenever she tried _not_ to think about something, that was the only thing she _could_ think about. And it broke the dam of her strength. Tears escaped, making rivers down Prim's cheeks. She should stop, but she couldn't. She just…couldn't. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her skirt and encountered the goat cheeses. She didn't think one would have to go to her family.

Effie gave Prim a side hug. Prim couldn't have hugged her back if she'd wanted to.

"It's time to pick our boy tribute!" Effie teetered over to the other glass ball. She whipped out another slip of paper, not taking the time she had with the girls. Maybe she was trying to divert the attention away from Prim. "Peeta Mellark!"

Prim didn't know this boy, but he looked old—almost too old to be reaped. The blood drained from his face, his blond hair stuck to his scalp and he stepped out of line. For a moment, Katniss looked like she'd pass out. Did she know this boy? Or was she still reeling from Prim's reaping?

Peeta walked on stage with a sigh. Would he be the one to kill Prim in the arena? He looked so kind. He gave Effie a wobbly smile. "Just one month shy of turning nineteen. Just my luck."

Effie patted him on the shoulder and then the whirlwind began. Peacekeepers whisked Prim into a room and left her alone, locked in. What happened in here? Would they tell her secrets about the games? Would they come question her? And would she ever see Katniss or Mom—

The door burst open. Katniss rushed in and grabbed Prim's hand. "Quick, Prim, we need to get out of here. Now."

Prim reeled back. "No, Katniss!" But why not? Was it because the idea of fleeing felt even more terrifying? "They'll catch us. They'll catch you!"

She shook her head. "Gale and I will take you—"

"Ahem." A peacekeeper stood in the doorway. "Five minutes."

Prim launched into Katniss's arms, sobbing into the crook of her shoulder. She shook her head, but words didn't come until she took a great shuddering gasp. "I don't want to go. I don't want to go!"

Mom stepped up and wrapped both Katniss and Prim in a hug. Prim couldn't get close enough to them. She wanted to be enveloped, secure, tucked into those warm arms.

"Take care of Buttercup." Prim swiped her sleeve along her running nose. Poor Buttercup! She hadn't even given him a proper good-bye!

"I will." Katniss wiped tears from her face. Prim had never seen her cry before. "I-I wanted to take your place, Prim. You know I would—"

"I'm glad you can't." _Be strong._ "I'm glad you get to stay here and get married. You have to live the happy ending for both of us."

Katniss groaned and Mom sucked in a shuddering breath. Then, as if accepting Prim's fate, Katniss looked up with steel in her eyes. She clamped her hands around Prim's shoulders and said in a strong, fierce voice, "You can survive, Prim. You can."

Prim shook her head. "I can't!"

"You can. I've shown you how to shoot a couple times—"

"I don't _want_ to!" she wailed. "I don't want to kill anyone!"

"You don't have to." Katniss stood. "You can hide, or pretend to be insane, or scavenge until they've all killed off each other."

The peacekeepers waltzed in. "Time's up."

"Wait!" Prim pulled the goat cheeses out of her pocket and handed them to Katniss. "One for you and…one for the Mellark family."

Something in Katniss's face crumbled at the name __Mellark.__ She held the cheese close. "That boy—Peeta...he'll take care of you, Prim. I know he will." The Peacekeeper pulled them out and slammed the door shut on Katniss's "_I love you."_

"I love you, too," Prim whispered, folding her arms around her middle. "Good-bye." Now, she stood utterly alone, wishing she were already dead.

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**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	3. Chpt 3 - Could Tributes Be Friends?

****3 ****

Prim stepped into a new world—the Capitol train—and thought, for a brief moment, that maybe death wouldn't be so bad. She'd never seen so many beautiful things, so many beautiful foods. It was almost like the Capitol was apologizing for what she had to go through.

The nice-looking blond boy whom Katniss said would take care of her, rubbed his red eyes, but it didn't stop the tears. "It's okay." Prim laid a hand on his arm. "I cried, too."

He gave a humorless laugh, but squeezed her hand anyway.

Effie led Prim to her own room—a room on a train! A lovely bed rested against one wall with blankets thicker than Prim's whole body. "The shower is in there,"—Effie pointed at a sleek sliding door—"and then these are filled with clothes." Her hand came to rest on a six-drawer dresser. "Wear whatever you like, do whatever you like, but be in the dining car in an hour." She paused before leaving, as if she wanted to say something else, then pursed her lips and walked out.

Prim almost asked Effie to stay. __No. I'll be strong.__ Katniss said she'd have volunteered for Prim, if she could. Prim could be strong like her sister…at least until they reached the Capitol.

But with the door closed behind her, no one could see how weak or strong Prim tried to be. She stood in the middle of the room, not moving, until the train started going. It inched forward at first, but then gained speed and didn't stop until Prim was sure they were flying. Her room didn't have a window, but suddenly she wanted to wave good-bye to District 12. It would be the last time she saw it.

In a panic, she bolted out of her room back the way she'd come until she reached a tube-shaped window in one of the entry cars. She pressed her face and hands against the glass, but District 12 was gone. Now…there was only countryside.

She swallowed a lump in her throat, refusing to say __good-bye__ again.

"I've never been outside of District twelve."

Prim whirled around to look up into the face of the blond boy, Peeta. "Me neither."

Then, without a word, they each returned to their rooms. Prim had a bath that morning before the reaping, so she didn't explore the "shower"—she had a mental image of what it did, but didn't want to learn just yet. Instead, she opened the dresser drawers.

Clothes—beautiful, beautiful clothes just like what Mom had in her special trunk. Only Mom's clothes would always be the prettiest. Prim pulled on a fresh white blouse, high-waisted green pants, and slippers. The slippers were probably for bed-time, but she'd never worn slippers before.

Supper came and went and Prim ate far more than she'd ever eaten in a single sitting. Food she'd never hear of nor tasted, but it was divine. Both she and Peeta, with full bellies, stumbled after Effie into a different room where a screen replayed the reapings. Prim didn't want to watch, but forced herself to. One of these people would kill her. It wouldn't be Peeta—Katniss trusted him, so Prim would too.

Why did Katniss trust him?

Names flew across the screen: Cato, Clove, Marvel, Glimmer, on and on and on. They all looked old—like Peeta. Prim gripped the loose material of her pants into tiny bunches in her fists. Would she be the youngest? The smallest? The weakest? The most frightened? Some of the tributes even looked __happy__ to be reaped. But when it showed District 11, Prim noticed a girl her age with brown skin and curly dark hair.

Her name was Rue.

That girl, Prim was certain, would be a new friend…

…that is, if friends could be made in a competition of murder.

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**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	4. Chpt 4 - Promises

****4 ****

"You're not going to survive." These were Haymitch's first words to Prim. He, Prim, Effie, and Peeta sat around a mahogany table with another hot Capitol meal in front of them.

Prim's hand hovered mid-way to her mouth. She looked into Haymitch's scruffy face. "I know."

"You don't need to frighten her." Peeta set his water glass down with a clunk. "It's __your__ job to teach us how to survive. If you're labeling us as failures already, then our failure will be your fault."

Peeta said __us__ as if he considered her as a team mate. But he shouldn't! "Haymitch is right, Peeta. I don't want to kill people."

"Well, neither do I, but I want to survive. I still want to learn everything I can."

Was Katniss right? That she could survive? Maybe even without killing someone? She dare not hope. Not yet.

Haymitch rolled his eyes and swigged from a flask. "Survive. __Learn.__ Friendship. How about some candy and bubble baths, too? …You're both pathetic."

Prim leaped to her feet, her fists at her sides. "No we're not! Just because we don't want to murder people doesn't mean we're weak!"

"You have __no__ idea what's going to happen once you enter that arena," Haymitch growled. "You're going to become a monster, yes even you, little blue-eyed sweetheart." His eyes lost focus for a moment. "Everyone does."

Peeta punched him in the jaw. Effie screamed and Prim plopped back into her seat. Haymitch fell on his back on the ground, yanking the tablecloth with him. Dishes clattered to the floor. Prim's startled gaze flitted from Haymitch to Peeta. even though his hand was still in a fist and a muscle in his clenched jaw pulsed...she trusted him.

Once the chaos settled, Haymitch rubbed his jaw.

"Not us." Peeta breathed heavily. "We won't become monsters."

"Well!" Effie huffed. "Those were monstrous __manners__, young man!" She waved a hand toward a servant woman with long red hair and white clothing. Without a word, the woman came and started picking up the broken dishes.

Haymitch propped himself up on his elbows, glaring at Peeta. Peeta glared back. Then Haymitch started to laugh. Was he insane? Drunk? Prim glanced at Peeta—he looked just as confused.

"At least you've got a little muscle." Haymitch crawled back into his chair. "I'm not convinced you're survivors yet." Peeta opened his mouth as if to retort, but Haymitch held up a finger. "__But__, I'll teach you what I can…on one condition." He looked pointedly at each of them. "You do __whatever__ I say."

"Then you have to stay sober." Peeta's jaw relaxed.

Haymitch waved away the statement. "Fine, fine. Deal?"

Peeta nodded. Prim nodded, too…only she wouldn't kill anyone.

On their way to bed, Prim and Peeta found themselves alone in the corridor. Prim wanted to ask if Peeta knew Katniss. She wanted to talk about Katniss-about how much she'd miss her, about how strong she was, about how she wanted to _be_ like Katniss. But that was the wrong type of focus. Prim stopped at her door and looked up at Peeta. "I'm not going to kill you."

He stopped walking, but didn't look at her. Then, in a quiet voice, "Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I don't." She lifted her jaw to show her seriousness. She'd keep this one. Katniss trusted this boy, and if Katniss trusted him, Prim would never do anything to harm him.

He gave her a small smile. "Good-night, Prim." He continued down the hall and disappeared into his room.

She watched him go, the peaceful feeling in her chest dissipating like thin liquid under summer heat. She couldn't help but notice...

..._he_ didn't promise not to kill _her_.

.

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**To be continued...**

(new posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

.

* * *

_~Feel free to check out my own dystopian book, A Time to Die (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~ "How would you live, if you knew the day you'd die?"_


	5. Chpt 5 - A Plan to Die

**5**

Prim lay on her back in her room, imagining herself stabbing someone to death. She almost heaved at the idea. But her mind wouldn't let it go. Every scene from every past Hunger Games flitted across her memory, only this time _she_ was the one killing someone.

She clamped her fists over her eyes. No! She wouln't become a monster like Haymitch said. Even if Peeta ended up killing her after all, she didn't mind. She'd survive as long as she could—to make Katniss happy—and that's all she could do. Katniss would want her to fight, but what skills did Prim have?

Ah yes, something different to focus on. Skills.

Skill 1: She knew how to make cheese. So if they were in an arena full of tame goats, she'd do great. She rolled her eyes. Okay, next.

Skill 2: She knew how to heal wounds. Not as well as Mom, but still…no one else her age could stitch a gash or draw infection from an old injury. She'd be able to keep herself alive if someone ever wounded her. Perhaps that could come in handy—get injured, fake dead, and then heal herself? As crazy as the idea sounded, she wouldn't write it off.

What else? How would she eat? Katniss herself admitted that Prim wasn't a hunter. However, Prim had helped draw pictures in Mother's apothecary book. Father had added other entries to the book—entries of plants used for food. Prim knew most of those. It was one of her favorite memories with Katniss: pouring over the pages late into the night. Learning how to live off the land. Feeling like a grown up.

_I bet no one _else _knows about plants like Katniss and I do!_

What were Mom and Katniss doing right then? Was Katniss still crying? Was Gale trying to comfort her? Did Rory—Gale's brother…miss Prim? He was the only boy she ever liked. For now, she'd imagine that he liked her back.

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* * *

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Sleeping without Mom, Buttercup, or Katniss left Prim dizzy and bleary-eyed in the morning. She cried for a good hour before crawling out of bed. Today they'd arrive at the Capitol. She wasn't ready. She'd never be ready.

Everyone was already assembled in the dining car. Prim slid into her seat, staring at the breakfast of eggs, ham, fried potatoes, rolls, fruit…if only she could somehow share this with Katniss and Mom. Buttercup would love the ham! Had he ever tasted ham before?

"Have some hot chocolate." Peeta slid a mug of steaming, creamy dark liquid toward her. It smelled good. She took a tentative sip. Liquid comfort slid down her throat, calming her stomach and nerves. If anything could make her feel better about the Games, it was hot chocolate.

"So, what are your skills?" Haymitch shoved a moose-sized bite of eggs into his mouth.

The cocoa in Prim's mouth turned to mud. Suddenly the previous night's self-evaluating didn't seem to amount to much.

"I haven't got any skills." Peeta stirred his cocoa, then licked the spoon. "Unless the arena is a bakery."

"Okay, so first we'll work on your confidence level, Muscles. Then I'll ask you about your skills again." Haymitch turned to Prim. "And you?"

"Um…" She forced a swallow. "I can heal wounds and find edible plants." Her voice ended in a squeak. Haymitch rolled his eyes and she turned her gaze back to the cocoa. What did it matter what he thought of her? It was clear they all knew she'd die.

"And you're a fast runner," Peeta piped up. "Probably faster than a lot of us older kids."

"So you'll be a hider." The way Haymitch said this made Prim feel ashamed. A _hider_. It sounded so...pathetic. Just like what he predicted she'd be.

Prim looked up at Peeta, resisting the urge to give in to Haymitch's ribbing. "How do you know I'm a fast runner?"

"Katniss always bragged on you at school." He wouldn't meet her gaze. "One day there was a race in your class. I could hear her cheering for you all the way across the school yard, so I went to see what the fuss was about. That's when I saw you run. You won the race, yards and yards ahead of the boys. You're good."

Katniss bragged on her. Prim's chest swelled. "I guess I _am_ pretty fast."

She expected Haymitch to roll his eyes again, but he surveyed her. "That could work to your advantage. The cornucopia is usually a bloodbath, but speed could get you in and out before the bloodbath starts."

Her hands shook. The cornucopia! The place where every kid got sliced to ribbons? She couldn't run into _that._

Haymitch gestured to her face. "Well there goes _that_ idea. You look like you're gonna puke."

She felt like it, too.

"If you're going to turn into a limp noodle at the very _mention_ of trying to survive, you might as well just step onto a landmine before the countdown."

Prim startled. Now _there_ was an idea! Step off her little platform before the countdown. She'd blow up—it'd be mostly painless—and she wouldn't have to wait for someone else to kill her. Yes…that would work _very_ well.

Thank you, Haymitch. Finally, she had a plan.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.).

* * *

_~Feel free to check out my own dystopian book, A Time to Die (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

**_"How would you live, if you knew the day you'd die?"_**


	6. Chpt 6 - Prepped

****6 ****

"You're not going to like what they're going to do to you." Haymitch circled Prim and Peeta like a vulture. "But you're going to do whatever your stylists tell you."

Prim shrugged. "Okay." What did it matter? She'd be blown up in a few days, no matter how pretty the stylists made her.

The train entered a tunnel. She and Peeta ran to the window. "In a moment we'll see the Capitol."

Prim didn't share Peeta's excitement, though she __was__ curious about the clothes that Capitol people wore. Then…there it was. The Capitol full of people wearing the brightest clothing Prim had ever seen. High heels, frills, ribbons, make-up…despite some of the odd appearances, Prim sighed. She couldn't help but love the idea of beautiful clothing.

Buildings stretched taller than the clouds, polished stone wound as pathways through alleys and buildings. What a place - what a magical, surreal, wonderland of a place. She tried to ignore the fact the people here would cheer on her death.

Onlookers pointed at the train and Prim ducked below the windowsill, but Peeta remained, nose against the glass, waving at them. How could he wave? It was so intimidating with everyone looking at them like that!

"Why are you waving?" she whispered up at him.

He shrugged. "You never know, one of them may be rich."

Oh yeah. Sponsors. Well, Prim didn't want anyone to waste money on her, not when she planned to explode into smithereens.

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* * *

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Prim's fascination with the odd people of the Capitol disappeared when three humans - were they human? - demanded she strip down. Two women and one man, though their painted skin and squeaky voices made her think of them as mechanical toys. Human-sized toys who wanted her __naked.__ And for some reason, it didn't bother them at all. Their names were Venia, Olivia, and Flavius. They bubbled over Prim, but no matter their kindness, she wouldn't take off her clothes.

She'd never been naked before except when taking a bath. But Mom and Katniss didn't count. "Why? Can't you just do what you need to with my clothes on?"

"My dear, you're a hairy __beast!"__ Octavia squealed.

Prim hugged her arms around herself and Venia stepped close with her hand outstretched. Prim was so nervous that she'd tear the clothes right off her that she screamed. Venia recoiled and looked at Octavia with wild eyes. "Why did she do that? I'm not going to __hurt__ her!"

"Go away!" Tears burned Prim's eyes. "I want Katniss." The plea came out in a croak and she was ashamed that such weakness escaped. But these crazy prep people wouldn't understand anyway.

"We'll just get Cinna." Flavius's orange curls bounced as he hustled the two women out.

Prim was left alone in the sterile room, trying not to feel guilty for her behavior. Haymitch told her to do whatever they wanted, but did he expect _this?_ Did he have to do this when he competed in the games? The prep team was kind enough, but all of this was too new. Too new for Prim to handle.

After ten minutes, they crept back into the room. She backed against the wall, but Venia held out her hands. "Don't worry, dear. Cinna said to let you keep your clothes on. We'll just work around them."

Prim crunched the material in her fists. "Promise?" Flavius nodded encouragingly. His orange corkscrew locks bounced so crazily, that Prim smiled. "I'm sorry…I'm just not used to this."

"Would you mind wearing a robe instead?" Octavia asked in a soft, tentative voice. She held out a fluffy lavender robe.

"Alright." Prim took it from her, running her fingers over the soft material. She changed in a separate room and then returned to them, lying on a table. They went to work, hesitant at first…probably afraid she'd scream again. But she didn't. They seemed kind at heart.

"I like your skin color," she told Octavia who then blushed and took to brushing her hair with sweet, Mother-like strokes.

When it was all finished and the prep team left, Prim felt like a hairless cat under her robe. But she also felt prettier. They'd filed her fingernails into delicate round ovals, trimmed her eyebrows, and brushed her hair full of soft chemicals. What would Katniss think when she saw Prim on screen?

Prim swallowed.

Katniss. Katniss would be watching every second of the Games, inches from the screen, watching over Prim. Cheering for Prim. It was this mental picture—of Katniss hunching in front of the television screen, a look of focus as she mentally urged Prim on—that ruined Prim's plan.

She couldn't jump onto a landmine! Katniss would…would…be crushed.

Prim couldn't do that to her. She __had __to fight. She didn't want to, but she __had__ to…for Katniss. The last gift Prim could give to anyone in this world was a fighting spirit and hope. Perhaps that was worth a little suffering in the Arena.

The door opened and a young dark-skinned man walked in. Gold lined his eyelids, but aside from that he looked perfectly normal. "Hello, Prim. I'm Cinna, your stylist."

"Hi."

"I'm sorry the prep team frightened you earlier. I can imagine how strange all of this must feel. I'm new here, too."

Prim instantly liked Cinna's soft manner, his kind eyes. "You are?"

He nodded. "I'm honored to represent District Twelve and, even though I can't help you in the Games, I plan to help you as much as possible in the days before they start."

Prim followed him into a sitting room where they ate lunch. Meanwhile, Cinna talked about his plans for Prim's clothing. "You're a soft flower and I want to capture that innocence through your clothing. You're brave, too, and I think we can capture that as well."

Soft. Brave. How could those two things go together?

After lunch, Prim was dressed in her District 12 outfit. It fit snuggly and, even though she'd be engulfed in flames soon, she felt safe. Covered head to toe.

Peeta arrived in a matching outfit and they climbed onto the carriages that would take them into the opening ceremonies. Prim wanted to pet the horses, but wasn't sure she was allowed to.

"You okay?" Peeta asked her. Goodness, she felt small next to him.

She nodded, but a lump had formed in her throat as the tributes from District 1 rode out in their own chariot, wearing glittering jewel-encrusted tunics. Soon everyone would be looking at her.

She didn't feel safe anymore.

Peeta slid his hand around hers and she startled. When she looked up, she met his eyes and they were smiling…in a nervous sort of way. "It's okay. I'm here."

In that moment, their outfits burst into flames. Prim screamed and clutched Peeta's hand. They hadn't started moving yet, but the fire eradicated any calm she'd had before. Cinna shouted from across the way, "Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!"

Prim's breaths came quicker. She tried not to focus on the fire, but it was all around her. It didn't burn, though. In fact, she felt nothing.

Peeta squeezed her hand as their chariot rolled forward. "Prim…" He leaned down and whispered in her ear as they entered the city. "I'll take care of you, Prim. I promise."

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	7. Chpt 7 - Avoxes

****7 ****

"District Twelve! District Twelve! District Twelve!"

Prim glanced up at the chanting crowd. They were cheering for…__her?__ No, probably for Peeta—anyone could see she wasn't worth much. Or maybe they were just cheering because Cinna's costume design was so…illuminating.

Prim caught a glimpse of herself on the television screen. Next to Peeta, she looked small, minuscule…but like an explosive little fireball. It was so bizarre to see herself so huge and fiery. She almost felt proud.

"Just imagine it's Katniss cheering you on at the race," Peeta said in her ear.

Katniss would be proud. The last time Prim saw her, Katniss called her "little duck," but now Prim imagined what she might call her instead. __Fire duck__ popped into her head and it was so absurd, so silly, that Prim laughed out loud.

On the television screen, her laugh made her look insane, like she __enjoyed__ burning alive. It made her laugh harder. Maybe she __was__ insane. No other tributes had thought about blowing themselves up to avoid the Games. Besides, the Capitol people seemed to like insane. They roared their approval.

The chariots looped the City Circle and pulled up beneath President Snow's mansion. Prim had never seen President Snow, nor did she want to. He stepped onto the balcony - small, thin, with off-white hair. After a quick welcome, the anthem played and the horses returned of their own accord into the Training Center.

Cinna gave Prim a hand down from the chariot. Only then did she realize she'd been gripping Peeta's hand like a vice the whole ride. His fingers were red from lack of circulation. "I'm sorry," she told him over her shoulder.

He just smiled and she remembered his words: __I'll take care of you, Prim. I promise__.

She believed him. But why? Why did Katniss trust him? Why did he want to protect Prim?

.

* * *

.

Prim threw up on the elevator in the Training Center. She'd never been more embarrassed in her life. How could she handle a two-day train ride, a chariot ride, being lit on fire and stripped of all her body hair…but not an __elevator__ ride? Maybe it was just because the drop of her stomach felt a little too familiar to when she first stepped on the platform with Effie…having just been reaped.

"You poor dear!" Effie hustled Prim to her room so fast that she had very little time to take in the elaborate 12th level designed specifically for her and Peeta. Her room was bigger than her entire house in District 12. Effie swept her straight into the shower. "Just take a nice soak and then come out for dinner."

Prim did as commanded, though it took her a while to figure out all the gadgets on the shower panel. Once the water started spewing from overhead with pink bubbles swirling in the air, she sat on the ground and let it pelt her like an angry rainstorm.

Here. Here she could think. She could digest.

She was in the Capitol. It was so easy to get distracted by the finery, the people, the instant fame and the outfits. But the fact remained that she would be in the Arena in just a few days and she still hadn't settled on a plan.

To blow up or to not blow up?

If only she'd asked Katniss not to watch the Games this year—then she's never see Prim's struggle with cowardice.

But cowardice wasn't the worst of it. When Prim really thought about it, __really__ looked at her situation, she was struck by the knowledge she would be dead in a few days.

Dead.

Gone. No more running. No more Buttercup. No more Mom brushing her hair and then braiding it. No more hopes of Rory Hawthorne holding her hand. No more milking life felt too short and Prim felt too grown up. She didn't want to think about death. Not yet.

A rap on the door startled her. "Time for dinner, dear!"

Effie.

Dinner.

What did it matter?

"I'll be right there." Prim crawled back to her feet. Effie was so nice to her, she couldn't let her down. Not while she still had a couple days to make __someone__ happy.

Dinner was served on a long table with Peeta, Haymitch, Effie, Portia, and Cinna all present. Prim sat next to Peeta. He passed her a plate and then a man in a long white tunic served her some gray-ish soup, vegetables with teensy tomatoes, roast beef and noodles. After serving the food, his hand slipped up and placed a small primrose on her napkin.

Prim gasped and a smile spread across her face. "Thank you!"

The tunic man looked at her, startled, and she wondered if she did something wrong.

"Prim!" Effie set her wine glass on the table. "You're not to speak to Avoxes unless it's to give an order."

"But..." her fingers toyed with the primrose. Maybe the man had been ordered to give it to her. Maybe it wasn't just a gift from him. "W-What's an Avox?" She watched as the man bowed and backed away. Sweat lined his forehead. Did she get him in trouble?

"Someone who committed a crime. They cut their tongues out so they can't speak," said Haymitch.

Prim's throat stuck and her eyes burned. She had an abrupt urge to get up from the table and give the poor Avox man a hug. She looked at him, but he stared at his feet, holding a water pitcher like a statue.

"Shall we move into the sitting room?" Cinna suggested. Everyone else at the table grasped the escape. They stood with their chairs scraping against the floor.

Prim rose last, still stunned. Cutting out people's __tongues? __Peeta lingered behind to walk with her, but she couldn't just leave. Not with those last words hanging in the air: __They cut their tongues out so they can't speak.__

What did it matter what Effie thought? What Haymitch thought? Or what the Capitol thought? She tiptoe-ran to the Avox and threw her arms around his middle. He didn't respond. Didn't move. A small groan came from deep within his throat and that's when she pulled away. She didn't want to get __him__ in trouble.

She looked up at his face, not minding that tears streamed down her own. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that anybody ever hurt you."

"Come on, Prim." Peeta sounded tense. The voices in the sitting room grew louder, as if someone was coming back for them.

A single tear slipped down the Avox man's cheek.

"I wish I knew your name," she whispered to him. "But I'll think of you fondly, anyway."

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.).

* * *

_~Feel free to check out my own dystopian book, A Time to Die (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

**_"How would you live, if you knew the day you'd die?"_**


	8. Chpt 8 - The Training Center

**8**

The moment Prim stepped into the training room, she almost spun on her heel and walked out again. Peeta took her by the arm. "No you don't. Come on, if I have to, you have to."

He seemed stronger when he had to lead her and be courageous for her. Maybe he needed her in there with him so _he_ wouldn't get nervous.

"Okay." Prim scanned the other tributes who dispersed to the different stations. They were huge. All of them. And confident. _Where's that girl who's my age?_ What was her name? Rue?

Rue was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she left the arena like Prim had wanted to. Prim's stomach sank like the miner's elevator. She'd so desperately wanted to find a friend. Sure, Peeta could be called "friend," but she didn't _know_ him and he was old. More like "big brother" material.

Then again, maybe this was for the best. If Prim became friends with Rue, they'd have to watch each other die. Or maybe Rue would have to kill Prim. Or…something.

She spent most of the day at the edible plants station, learning about the ones she hadn't heard of. Then she went to the healing station and learned about different ways to splint, bind, and treat wounds using nature. Much of this she already knew, but she caught a few new tricks she'd never thought of before. Mom would _love_ to know about these.

That was her favorite station. She'd return to it tomorrow.

Peeta hunkered down at the camouflage station. Prim wanted to join him, but didn't want him to feel like he had to focus on her.

The weapons sat on the other side of the room, beckoning. Taunting her. _No. I won't be a killer._

But part of her, a tiny little itchy part in the palm of her hand, wanted to pick up a dagger…just to see how it felt.

.

By training day number two, Prim had learned everything she could from the instructors at the healing station and edible plants station. In fact, she taught _them_ a few things. She gave them smiles, figuring none of the other tributes did that. These poor instructors had to train kids they knew would be dying in a couple days.

Prim still hadn't connected with Rue. She thought she glimpsed her at one point, toying with a dagger, but when Prim looked again, she wasn't there.

Prim went from station to station, learning about building shelters and camouflage and fishhooks. For some reason, the idea of catching and killing a fish didn't bother her as much as the idea of catching and killing a deer, or a rabbit, or something fluffy and cuddle-able. Besides, fish could be eaten raw. Perhaps she should learn about snares and fishing hooks…just in case.

As she settled at the station, a realization struck her like a lightning bolt. _I'm thinking like a survivor._

It terrified her. Was she really hoping to survive?

.

* * *

.

"Look, sweetheart, you've got to pick up a weapon today." Haymitch picked at his teeth as they rode the elevator down to the Training Area.

It was the last day and then they'd be performing in front of the Game Makers, dressing for an interview, and then off to the Arena. What did it matter? What could she learn in one day?

Prim started to shake her head, but Haymitch cut her off. "You promised to do whatever I tell you. Now get in there and learn to throw a dagger, shoot a bow and arrow, _something._"

Prim just stared at the elevator doors, silent.

Haymitch threw his hands in the air. "Why do I even try? It's your funeral. Don't expect me to attend unless I get to put _I told you so_ on the tombstone."

The doors opened and they walked into the training arena once more. For the first time, Prim spotted Rue. She hovered by the weapons, inspecting each one with a brush of her small dark fingers. Without a word to Haymitch or Peeta, Prim dashed across the room, keeping her eyes locked on the other girl so she wouldn't lose her.

Then, realizing she was attracting stares from the other tributes, particularly a burly one named Cato, she veered a little to her right so she ended up at the wall of daggers. She plucked one off the wall and tested the sharpness of the blade with her fingernail, as if this had been her intent the whole time.

A quick glance showed her Haymitch, still in the elevator, staring at her with a slack jaw. Peeta nudged Haymitch with his elbow, grinned, and then jogged toward the climbing station.

Once everyone was sufficiently distracted, Prim slid closer to Rue. Rue looked up and gave a brilliant smile. "Hi."

What a surprise! She wasn't afraid. "Hello." Prim put the dagger back up on the wall. "I'm Prim."

"I'm Rue." Rue's fingers stopped on a slingshot and she pulled it off the wall.

Prim wanted to say _I know_, but that might be off-putting. "We both have the names of flowers, did you know that?" An obvious sign they were destined to be friends.

"Yeah." Rue's timid eyes stayed on the slingshot.

Prim wanted to put her at ease. She wanted to tell her that she wouldn't kill her, but the very idea of talking about killing seemed too harsh, especially when they'd just met.

"I liked your outfit at the opening ceremonies." Rue looked up, meeting Prim's eyes. She let out a gushed giggle. "I thought you were on fire!"

"I did, too, for a moment." Prim noticed Haymitch watching her with narrowed eyes. By now, he'd figured out she didn't run to the weapons because she wanted to hold a dagger. So she copied Rue and pulled a slingshot off the wall. It was light and comfortable in her hand. Even though she'd never used one before, she felt safer.

"Want to go practice?" Rue grabbed a bucket of stones.

Prim shrugged. "Alright." She picked up one end of the bucket to lighten it for Rue and they headed to target practice. On their left, Clove—the girl from District two—threw daggers one after the other and hit the bull's-eye every time. Another guy—Marvel, Prim thought his name was—showed the same amount of accuracy with a spear.

An instructor showed both Prim and Rue how to hold the slingshot and they spent the rest of the afternoon practicing. When they ran out of rocks, the instructor brought them a bucket of little colored balls that exploded with a splash of paint when they hit the target. This helped the girls improve their direct aim.

Once, when one of her balls didn't explode on impact, Prim ran forward to retrieve it. A sharp _pop!_ stung her leg and she startled, glancing back at Rue. Rue was doubled over in giggles, her slingshot in one hand. A yellow splash of paint marked Prim's leg.

Prim loaded her slingshot with the pink ball she'd retrieved and let it fly. It hit Rue on the forehead, sending a spray of pink paint into her curly black hair. They laughed harder, loud enough that now people noticed.

The instructor from that station ran over, pale. "No attacking other tributes!"

Rue covered her mouth with her arm and Prim managed to take a deep breath. She jogged back to the aiming line and avoided Rue's eye for risk of losing control. Still, with every shot, they each let out a little giggle.

And that's when Prim knew…Rue would never kill her.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.).

* * *

_~Feel free to check out my own dystopian book, A Time to Die (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

**_"How would you live, if you knew the day you'd die?"_**


	9. Chpt 9 - Defying the Gamemakers

**9**

The private session with the Gamemakers would be a joke. Prim could hardly wait to get it over with, and yet she didn't know what to do. Peeta and Haymitch kept hissing words of advice like, "Show them your sprint." Or "Use the slingshot." Or "Don't screw this up, sweetheart or you're dead."

Rue and Prim didn't say anything to each other. What would Rue do for her demonstration? Too bad she and Prim couldn't go in together.

Prim's name was finally called—she was last to go in and the Gamemakers didn't seem to care. They teetered around from too much wine, joking with each other. Some looked her way, but Prim didn't care.

She didn't run. She didn't shoot. She just stood stock still in the middle of the gymnasium, like a statue of defiance. Unmoving. Unsmiling. Trying not to quiver under the new gazes she received. This was her own act of defiance and strength. __Defiance can be bravery, too,__ she thought, hoping Katniss wouldn't be ashamed of her.

Ten minutes passed. By that point, the Gamemakers had surfaced from their wine glasses and simply watched her. Funny, how standing still performing no skill whatsoever could be more interesting to them than anything else she tried.

So what if she got ranked low? So what if Haymitch blew a cap because she wasn't "trying" the way he wanted her to?

"One minute left, Miss Everdeen," a Gamemaker announced.

At this, she turned on her heel to face them all fully. With a small bow that almost collapsed her shaking knees, she said, "Thank you for your consideration, but I will not be killing anyone for your games."

Then she walked out with stiff forced steps, just as nervous as when her name was first pulled from the fishbowl by Effie Trinket.

"How did it go?" Peeta asked the moment Prim stepped onto the twelfth floor.

Prim shook her head. She didn't want to tell him. Now, outside of the private session, she didn't feel brave at all. In fact, she felt like a coward—ashamed of her refusal to perform for the Gamemakers. Ashamed to admit to Peeta that she didn't even try.

Haymitch would be furious.

They joined the adults around the elaborate meal table, snacking on fruits and wine and a cheeseplate. Everything tasted like coal dust in Prim's mouth. The adults chit-chatted about the weather and other small-talk. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe Prim could get away without admitting what she'd done.

But that wouldn't help. The gamemakers would announce the scores live tonight and then Effie and Haymitch and Cinna and Peeta…and Rue…would all see how awful Prim did.

"Okay, enough small talk, just how bad were you today?" Haymitch asks.

Prim choked on her strawberry.

"I don't know that it matters much," Peeta jumped in. "They were all bored and half-drunk by the time I got in. I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go."

"And you, sweetheart?" said Haymitch.

Prim couldn't meet his gaze. She couldn't tell him. "I…I…" __I was brave for the first time in my life. I stood up to them! I showed them I could be strong in my own way. __"…I didn't do anything." Her nose burned and tears pooled on the rims of her eyes. "Don't expect much from my score."

"Scores only matter if they're very good, anyway." Portia's attempt to smooth over Prim's confession gave Prim the moment she needed to compose herself. "No one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones. For all they know, you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose. People use that strategy."

"Well a low score won't get you any sponsors." Haymitch ruined the comfort that came from Portia's words.

"Well, let's go in and see." Cinna offered Prim his arm. She grinned, took it, and they walked into the sitting room to watch the scores.

Cinna and Peeta—Prim's two heroes. Not just because they were kind to her, but because she believed they genuinely cared.

The Career Tributes—as Haymitch called the beefy fierce ones—all got eights, nines, and tens. Prim's stomach sank lower and lower the closer they got to hers. Rue got a seven and Prim let out a small cheer, which attracted a few odd looks from Portia, Effie, and Haymitch. Prim wasn't about to explain that Rue was her __friend__. They didn't approve of friends in the arena.

Peeta got an eight and suddenly Prim was chewing on her fingernails and clenching her stomach. There was her face, her light blonde hair woven back with dainty braids. Below the picture, a number surfaced—rotating on its base—and Prim couldn't block out the gasp that escaped Effie's mouth. The gamemakers had given her…

…a one.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.).

* * *

_~Feel free to check out my own dystopian book, A Time to Die (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

**_"How would you live, if you knew the day you'd die?"_**


	10. Chpt 10 - The Interview

**10 **

Prim was worthless. Completely worthless.

No one said a thing in response to her score of _one._ Not a single other tribute had gotten a one. The next lowest score was a four! A _four!_

Haymitch watched her with narrowed eyes. Was he angry? She waited for him to say something—to attack her character or to give her up as a lost cause. Instead, he said, "Well, we'll just have to work extra hard to prep you for your interview."

That didn't help much. What good was an interview when she'd already stamped herself with failure. _What is Katniss thinking?_

Prim crawled into bed and, because no one could see her (she hoped), she pulled the blanket over her head and hid. A secret place. She imaged herself back home, just for a moment. A small luxury. She could almost feel the weight of Buttercup's fluffy body settling in for the night at her feet. She pretended, for one long breath, that she wouldn't be in the Arena in two days. She'd be home, with Mom and Katniss.

All would be right.

The next morning, Prim woke to reality. It punched her in the gut and she couldn't help sniffling through the morning. But, with a firm breath and renewed determination, she started training for her interview with Effie. They went to Prim's room where Effie handed Prim a full-length gown and high heels. Prim reached for the dress with careful fingers. Finally. _Finally_ she'd be wearing the beautiful clothing of the Capitol—not the overly-colored clothes or the weird dyes, but something elegant and beautiful.

She sighed and Effie helped her into the dress. It was too long and the heels too high, but Prim couldn't help the enormous smile that spread over her face as she teetered in front of the mirror. "Look at me!" she squealed.

"You, my dear, are a natural." Effie's hands were clasped in front of her and she looked ready to hug Prim.

They spent the next four hours working out the details of etiquette—never hold the dress above the ankle. Straighten the knee when taking steps in the heels. Don't blink too much. Don't adjust the top with every movement. So much to remember!

Halfway through, Effie switched Prim's high heels out for a shorter heel. "That goes better with your age, dear."

Prim didn't complain. As lovely as the high heels were, they were difficult to walk in and they pinched her feet. How did Effie do it every day?

Prim went through a million different smiles, a hundred different polite phrases that felt odd on her tongue, and practiced her curtsy until she felt sure her knees wouldn't hold her up another minute.

"Excellent. They'll absolutely _love_ you!" Effie helped Prim out of the dress.

Prim put back on her training clothes and slid her feet into her fuzzy slippers. But she stopped at the door. She didn't want to go practice with Haymitch. What would he make her do? Say?Effie patted her on the back. "Off you go. He won't bite. You'll do fine." Why didn't she sound confident?

Prim stepped through the door and passed Peeta in the hallway. He winked at her. Okay, he survived. Effie was right—Prim would be fine.

"Hey sweetheart," Haymitch drawled as she walked into the dining room. "Hungry?"

Prim nodded and plopped into a seat across from him, helping herself to a roll. Haymitch watched her eat until every bite felt like swallowing a river rock. She avoided his gaze—was he going to comment on her awful training score?

It didn't matter, she didn't regret her actions. She was proud of herself. Katniss would be proud - she'd know Prim did something meaningful, like stand up to the Gamemakers...wouldn't she? - even though it's not what Katniss would have done.

"Right now, people like you because you're innocent."

Prim looked up from her half-eaten roll.

Haymitch continued surveying her. "But that's not enough to get them on your side, to get them to sponsor you. They _like_ you, but no one thinks you're a survivor." He leveled his gaze. "_Are_ you a survivor, Prim?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Well, at least you're honest." He scratched just under the hairline on his forehead. "What are you surviving for?"

Prim frowned. "I'm not going to survive."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking about your _chances_ of survival. I'm talking about what's driving you. If you _could _survive, why does it matter?"

Prim reminded herself that he wasn't attacking her character. He was prompting her, _helping_ her, in preparation for her interview. "For Katniss. And for Mom." And for Buttercup, but she wasn't about to tell him _that._

"Why?"

"Because Katniss loves me and it would _kill_ her if I died." Her throat closed for a moment.

"Why?"

"Because I'm her only sister! We take care of each other!" But Katniss had Gale now. She'd be fine.

"That's better—family bonding. They got her screams on camera, so we could run with that."

Katniss would hate that. She'd hate seeing her weakness displayed for the world to see. But she couldn't stop it now—she already had to watch Prim go into the games, so her pride was probably the last thing on her mind.

"Tell me about your mother."

Prim didn't want to talk about Mom. She didn't want to reveal that Mom had cocooned herself in her sorrow for years, or that she was probably doing the same thing now that Prim was gone. "She's a healer. She helps people get better when they're sick. She's strong—" at least she _was_ strong…at one point, "—and brave. I look just like her and everyone says she's the prettiest woman in District 12."

"Good, good." Haymitch was smiling now. He continued to ask her about her family, about Buttercup, about Lady her goat. The more Prim talked, the more she calmed. There was power in her story, in her family. It revived her.

But it also made her want to survive.

The next day arrived in a swirl of color and clothing. The prep team popped into Prim's room before she was even awake. She yanked the covers up to her chin with a squeak, but they didn't seem to mind. They were gushing about her upcoming interview, and how amazing she looked on the chariot.

No one said anything about her low score.

Cinna swept in once Prim was showered, primped, and make-uped. He took one look at her face and then thanked the prep team. "I'll take it from here."

They swept out with squeals, waves, and parting shouts like, "We'll see you at the interview!" "Good luck, darling one!" and "You're stunning!"

Once gone, Cinna touched up her make-up—meaning he wiped most of it off and fixed it so that Prim looked like herself once again. "You're so beautiful all on your own, you hardly need any make-up."

Prim smiled at him, wishing for a moment he'd give her a hug. A warm, firm hug like Father used to give. Instead, he unzipped a bag on a hanger, revealing a knee-length silk layered dress the color of cream with yellow accents.

"It's just like a primrose," she whispered, running her fingers down the soft, fragile material.

"I'd hoped you'd notice. The people of the Capitol don't know quite as much about gardening, but the color just seemed to match your gentle spirit perfectly." He smiled with such genuineness his gold eyeliner crinkled.

The neckline was a wave of dips and curls, ending in two thin straps that capped over her shoulders. The glistening heels had barely any lift and were easy to walk in while still feeling elegant. Prim twirled and watched the dress billow around her in the mirror. She loved it. It was perfect…and she still felt like herself.

"Are you ready?"

Prim nodded and Cinna helped her out of her room and into the elevator. Peeta looked dashing in a suit and Prim wondered again, for a moment, how he and Katniss knew each other.

The elevator descended and spilled them out near the back of the stage. Prim's heart fluttered and she secretly celebrated the fact she wouldn't have to go onstage until after all the other tributes except Peeta.

They filed on stage and took their seats. She caught Rue's eye—who wore a lovely gossamer gown—and gave a little wave. Rue waved back. She sat two seats down from Prim with the beefy Thresh in between them. Thresh was so huge, Prim leaned back in her chair and couldn't bring herself to try and whisper around him, fun compliments to Rue. If only she and Rue were sitting next to each other!

Caesar Flickerman bounded on stage in his shiny blue suit with the thousands of electric blue twinkle stars. After a few jokes, he gets right into the three-minute interviews. District 1 went first, then 2, then 3, and so on. Each tribute spoke and seemed to have an "angle" on how they approached the interview, but none of them seemed…_real._ Everything was show. And the closer it got to Prim's turn, the more she wanted to be real, to show people who she truly was as a last good-bye to life.

Rue's turn came and she floated up next to Caesar. She was all smiles and Prim envied her easy confidence.

"You got a _seven_ in your performance for the gamemakers. What would you say your greatest strengths are, Rue?" Caesar asked. "Or would you prefer not to tell?" He grinned mischievously.

"I'm hard to catch," she said in her soft musical voice. "And if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don't count me out."

"I wouldn't in a million years."

She flounced back to her seat and threw Prim a huge smile. For a wonderful, blissful three minutes while Thresh was on stage with Caesar, Rue and Prim were separated by only a seat.

"You did great!" Prim said as quietly as she could.

"Thanks! You look so pretty! Like a flower."

Prim looked down at her dress and smoothed out the layers. Then she jumped when her name was called. Thresh was already done?

She tried not to choke, or trip, or faint, as she stood from her seat. Caesar held out a hand for her. Grateful, she took it and he gave her a single twirl. "You look absolutely radiant!"

Prim giggled and her giggle rebounded off the walls off the stands, suddenly amplified. "It's because I'm a primrose!"

"Yes, you certainly are." And somehow, on the screen behind them, a beautiful primrose flower flashed. Prim could practically smell it. "So, Prim, the Capitol must be quite a change from District Twelve. What's impressed you most since you arrived here?"

Prim allowed her imagination to fly through the Capitol train, and the streets, and then settle in her lovely room on floor twelve. "The clothes." Her voice was breathy. Excited. "Every time Effie came to our district for the reaping, I wished I could wear fancy clothes like her."

Despite the fact it was the truth, an abrupt sickness grew in her stomach. She sounded like she'd _wanted_ to be reaped…if only to wear fancy clothes! No no no, that wasn't how it should have come out.

She spotted Effie Trinket in the audience and she gave a proud little wave. Her cheeks were a flustered red and Prim thought she saw a tear in her eye.

"Tell us about your home, Prim. Tell us about your family."

Her heart swelled and broke all at the same time when she thought of Katniss, Mother, Buttercup, and Lady. She didn't want to talk about them…not yet. Maybe not ever. The people in the Capitol wouldn't understand how wonderful they all were.

Ceasar must have noticed her hesitance because he jumped into a prompt. "When you were reaped, an older girl was shouting your name. Was that your sister?"

Prim's throat closed and she nodded. She took a shuddering gasp. "Katniss is my…best friend. And my sister. She's the bravest person I know." She looked directly into the camera, wishing Katniss could see the intentionality. "She told me, during our good-bye, that she would have volunteered for me if she was still of reaping age."

"And how did that make you feel?" Caesar's voice was gentle.

"Glad she was too old. I wanted her to stay home and get married."

The audience let out a collective _aww._ Prim wasn't trying to gain their sympathy, but it made her feel a little better all the same. "So when you had to say good-bye, I'm sure it was with a heavy heart, but I see determination in you, Prim. How do you think you'll do in the games?"

_I'm going to die!_ She wanted to shriek. _Don't you get it?_ But she held her tongue and instead felt her resolve hardening. She could see her face on the big projector and, for once, she looked like Katniss when Katniss was determined to be strong, fierce, and unbreakable.

"I'm not going to kill. No matter what, I won't be a monster."

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~Feel free to check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

**_"How would you live, if you knew the day you'd die?"_**


	11. Chpt 11 - The Night Before the Games

****11****

No one breathed. Prim wanted to retract her comment. No, she didn't. Yes…no…

Every face registered shock, embarrassment, confusion as to how to respond. Should they cheer? Disapprove? Ignore it? Caesar hopped right back in to save the day. "Well no matter what happens, I don't think you, Primrose, could __ever__ become a monster. Best of luck, Primrose Everdeen, tribute from District Twelve!"

Prim stood and curtsied like Effie had taught her. Then she returned to her seat. Despite her awkward ending, the applause filled the auditorium like a rising wave. Peeta gave her a thumbs up as he passed, taking his turn on stage. He was the last to go, so whatever he said would leave the final taste in the audience's mouth. He'd do great. He was so nice, it would be impossible for people not to like him. Besides, if __he__ earned sponsors, then maybe their money could go toward helping Prim, too.

Not that she'd be around long enough to need help.

She tuned back in to Peeta's interview in time to catch him and Caesar joke-sniffing each other. She giggled. The audience roared. Then, "So, Peeta, do you have a girlfriend back home?"

Peeta hesitated and Prim thought he threw a brief glance her way and shook his head. Why did Prim suddenly feel nervous?

"Handsome lad like you. There must be __some__ special girl. Come on, what's her name?" said Cesar.

Peeta sighed. "Well, there's this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping."

The crowd sighed as one. Some women even lifted handkerchiefs to their eyes. Prim watched Peeta closely. Who did he love? Something in her gut told her she should know the answer.

"She have another fellow?" Caesar asked.

"Yeah." He grimaced. Why did he keep talking about this? Was it a ploy to gain sympathy and attention from sponsors? Prim hoped so, she didn't like thinking of Peeta's heart hurting.

"So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. Fight for her! She can't turn you down then, eh?" Caesar gave him an encouraging slap on the knee.

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning . . . won't help in my case."

Yes it would! Prim balled her hands into fists, even more determined. She'd help Peeta get home. He was so nice. So friendly. No girl could turn him down!

"Why ever not?" asked Caesar, mystified.

Peeta looked down at his hands. "Because…because…her little sister came here with me."

It took a moment for that to sink in. Prim frowned, then gasped just as the camera settled on her face.

Katniss.

He loved __Katniss!__ Her eyes welled. Poor Peeta! Did he know Katniss was going to marry Gale next year? Was Katniss watching this? What was she thinking? Did she __know__ Peeta loved her? She told Prim that Peeta would watch out for her.

She had to have known.

But it didn't matter. If he won the games, that meant Prim would be dead and—no matter what Peeta did to protect her—it would never be enough for Katniss. But that didn't matter. Katniss and Gale were meant to be together. They were perfect for each other.

Poor Peeta.

So that's why he was so nice—he wanted to protect Prim…as a last heroic act for the girl he loved.

"Oh, that is a piece of bad luck." Caesar's voice barely rose above the sad murmurs of the crowd.

"It's not good," agreed Peeta.

"Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. If she looks anything like young Primrose here, it'd be hard not to fall for her." Caesar tossed out a soft grin. "She didn't know?"

Peeta shook his head. "Neither of them did. Not until now. But if I can't win the games, I'm making sure Prim does…so she can go back to her sister."

Prim let out a tiny sob and wanted to kick the camera that projected her wilting face on screen.

"Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours."

The roar of the crowd, Peeta's soft "thank you", the anthem…all faded into the background of Prim's swirling thoughts. No. This wouldn't work. He __couldn't__ try and help her win. She'd put him in danger. Didn't she just tell everyone she wasn't going to kill any tributes?

She followed Effie, Haymitch, and Peeta into the elevator, keeping her head low. Effie was sniffling and Haymitch nudged Peeta. "Good job out there. They're eating out of the palm of your hands."

A thin strand of hope lifted Prim's head. "So it was all pretend?" She looked at Peeta.

He shook his head and gave her a wobbly smile. "No, it was real, Prim. Your sister's had me captivated my whole life. I just wasn't quick enough to earn her love."

Prim's bottom lip trembled. "But…but aren't there other girls?"

"Shhhh." He gave her a side-hug. "Don't worry, it's not all as bleak as it came out on stage. I'm over it. I'm happy that Katniss has a man who will take care of her. Hopefully my interview got us some sponsors and will help send you home."

The elevator reached their floor and they walked in to the smell of dinner.

"No!" Prim shook her head and tried to push him away. "Please don't try to protect me. I'm not going to make it. You heard me up there, I'm not going to kill anyone. I won't fight." But would she? Everyone always said the Arena transformed a person into a blood-lusting beast. What if she didn't have as much control over herself as she thought?

"Let's eat." Haymitch plopped at the table. "And then you two are going straight to bed. You leave at dawn and we won't be going with you."

Prim choked on a sip of water. Peeta squeezed her hand. It had been so easy to forget about the Games starting __tomorrow__ during the whirlwind of interviews.

"Any final words of advice?" Peeta asked.

"When the gong sounds, get out of there. Neither of you are up to the blood bath at the Cornucopia." Haymitch settled his gaze on Prim. "No matter how fast you are. You'll die in seconds."

Prim lost her appetite. __Die in seconds__. She had two options: step off the platform and get blown to smithereens, but then Katniss would be crushed because Prim didn't even put up a fight. Or run to the Cornucopia and get slaughtered there. It'd be more painful, but at least Katniss would think that Prim __tried__.

"And __eat.__" Haymitch shoved a whole platter of roasted duck toward her. "You have no idea if there will be food there. Fill up, sweetheart."

This, at least, she would obey, despite the fact every bite tasted like paper. She didn't want to starve. That was too slow. She remembered starving after Father died. The worst stomach pains she'd ever remembered until Katniss came home with a burned loaf of bread one night. Prim never asked how she got it. It had to have come from the baker...where Peeta lived. Was that how they knew each other?

Prim ate so much that she practically crawled back to her room—the place of perfect escape. She changed into soft fluffy pajamas, crawled under the covers, and forced her mind to shut down. It obeyed the best it could, but her stomach kept clenching and squirming like it did the night before the reaping.

Only this time, there was no Mom or Katniss to crawl into bed with. The nightmares were coming and this time...

...Prim was alone.

Tomorrow, she'd be in the arena.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~Feel free to check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

**_"How would you live, if you knew the day you'd die?"_**


	12. Chpt 12 - The Cornucopia

****12****

Prim tried not to vomit in the hovercraft. If she did, then stuffing herself during breakfast was a waste. She needed to keep all the food in her that she could.

Her arm still stung from where the woman in the white coat inserted her tracker. Cinna rejoined her and she clamped onto his hand. "Cinna…will you tell…tell Katniss I love her?"

"Shh, little primrose. Don't talk like that."

The hovercraft lowered. If only the windows weren't blacked out, Prim could figure out where they were. They hadn't flown very long—a half hour or so at most. They exited the hovercraft and followed instructions into the Launch Room. Prim showered as long as Cinna allowed her to, soaking in the hot water, wishing she could somehow drown in the spray instead of step into the glass tube that would lift her into the Arena.

"Time to get ready," he said through the door.

She stepped out and pulled on the undergarments. Cinna then helped her with the light brown pants, green blouse, belt, and long hooded jacket. They fit perfectly. "The material in the jacket is designed to reflect body heat. Expect some cool nights."

Helpful, if she lived long enough to sleep in it.

Maybe she should try to connect with Rue first so that she could give Rue her jacket for extra warmth.

Maybe.

"You're all set, unless you want to eat more."

Prim shook her head. "I'm already about to throw up."

He chuckled probably to help ease her tension, and they sat together on a bench, waiting. Prim hated it. She wanted it over with. She could barely feel her legs, was she even breathing? Why all this waiting? Was it just to torment her and the other tributes?

"Do you want to talk?"

"I'm going to die," she blurted.

He took her hand in his. "Probably, little primrose. But you seem ready."

His words released her tension like a drain that unclogged. Finally. Someone got it. "No one else seems to agree. They keep telling me I can fight, I can survive, I can hide. They just don't get it, Cinna."

"I understand."

She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder, like she used to do with Father. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't. When she came up into that arena, she needed to look strong and brave…for Katniss who'd be watching from home.

"Please prepare for launch," a pleasant female voice announced.

Panic slammed Prim against the wall. No. Not yet. No. "No!" Pressure built inside. She was going to be sick. She was going to faint. She was about to die.

"Let it out," Cinna urged, leading her to the circular metal plate.

She gulped for breath.

"Just let it out."

She did. She screamed—a high-pitched frantic shriek that rang around them like a banshee's echo. Then she breathed out a feathery, embarrassed laugh.

"There we go." Cinna grinned and double checked the zipper on her jacket. Prim smiled, a wobbly one, but a smile none the less. She'd miss Cinna. "Remember to find water. And find Peeta, he'll protect you."

_And find Rue_. If Prim planned to survive, that's what she'd do.

But she didn't plan to survive. In less than two minutes, she'd be dead.

A glass cylinder lowered around her, cutting her off from Cinna. He held her gaze—fierce and assuring—until the cylinder began to rise like an elevator. She entered darkness for several long moments and then sunlight blinded her. Wind. The scent of pine. For a brief moment, she felt free.

Claudius Templesmith boomed all around them, "Ladies and Gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

The projected __60__ started its countdown, with a deep __click__ that reverberated in Prim's chest every time a number changed. She wobbled on her metal circle, but caught herself. She blinked until the scene cleared and she could make out the other tributes on their circles. Forest to the left, lake to the right, green grass ahead.

_…___55…__

_…___54…__

_…___53…__

The golden Cornucopia sat in the center of a ring of tributes. All eyes were fixed upon it. Prim faced the mouth of it and could see piles of weapons, backpacks, crates, food, etc. For a moment, she imagined the tributes in there, fighting for different weapons, blood flinging left and right.

_…___42…__

_…___41…__

_…___40…__

But she was fast. If she was going to die, she at least wanted Peeta or Rue to win. Maybe she could get some things from the Cornucopia for __them.__

_...30..._

_...29..._

_...28..._

Peeta crouched on his circle to her right, angled toward the forest to Prim's left. Prim couldn't see Rue. She must be behind the Cornucopia. From that vantage point, Rue wouldn't head for the pile of things inside the Cornucopia, it'd be too dangerous for her.

It was up to Prim to get them their weapons.

And if she died trying…then she died for a good cause.

_…10___…__

_…9___…__

_…8___…__

She positioned her feet and focused on her target, just like when she ran races at school. Always look at the finish line, never look at the racers. A knife for Peeta, a slingshot for Rue.

_...3..._

_...2..._

_...1..._

The gong rang out and she sprinted forward. She could hear Katniss's scream in her mind, urging her on. __Run! Run, Prim, you can do it!__

She ran.

But her legs were like jelly from all the nerves. And giant boulders of over-eaten food rested in her stomach. She was slow. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted someone else heading for the Cornucopia, too. Same speed.

It was a boy. And he was huge.

But Prim didn't give him a full glance. If she was going to die right now, she wanted it to be from behind. She didn't want to know it was coming. And big boys killed fast.

She reached the pile and grabbed the first things her hand came in contact with—a brown backpack filled to the brim with who-knew-what. Her left hand shot out and snagged a slingshot that lay on a crate. Now, for a knife. There, on the opposite wall in a bracket with other weapons. She rushed over, stuffing the slingshot into her belt.

Someone screamed behind her. She spun around and screamed herself. Blood and tributes—some on the ground, some standing over the dead ones with bloody swords. Her hand hovered over the knife on the wall.

Cato, the biggest tribute of them all from District 2, stood on the other side of the Cornucopia opening. Blood splattered his bright blond hair. A young boy tribute lay slashed on the ground. Dead. Cato lifted his crazed gaze from the body at his feet…and looked straight at Prim.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~Feel free to check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

**_"How would you live, if you knew the day you'd die?"_**


	13. Chpt 13 - Day One in the Games

****13****

Prim's mind screamed __RUN!__ But her feet wouldn't obey.

A sadistic smile twisted Cato's lips and he took long purposeful strides toward her, lifting the giant machete over his head. The blood of his last victim dripped on his face, but he didn't slow.

This was it. __I'm sorry Katniss.__

A knife tumbled through the air and the butt of the handle slammed into Cato's temple. Blood exploded from his head. He lurched to the side in reflex, and then someone was grabbing Prim's arm with a tight grip and yanking her away.

"Oh my gosh, Prim, get out of here!" Peeta's desperate voice jolted her out of her terror. She closed her fist over the knife and he pulled her toward the forest. Cato let out a giant roar from behind them. Prim twisted her head to look, but Peeta pushed her forward even harder. "Just keep running. He's not coming after us."

They ran, pell-mell, through the screams and dying bodies. Some sort of hatchet flew past Peeta's head. He didn't flinch, just scooped it up as they ran. Prim couldn't breathe. She couldn't see through the tears filling her eyes.

Peeta saved her.

"Is Cato dead?" she sobbed. Why was she crying?

"No," Peeta gasped. "I can't throw worth beans, but I think I nicked him. The handle of the knife is what did the most damage. Stunned him, I think. Maybe someone else got him while he was startled. Too bad we lost the knife, but at least we have the hatchet."

They entered the forest, leaping over fallen branches and tangled bushes. Leaves slapped her face. Peeta didn't let go of her arm, not even when she tumbled to the ground. He yanked her back up and they kept going. The knife in her hand grew slick from her sweat. She needed to put it away.

"Peeta—"

"Keep running."

She wiped the tears away with the back of her wrist and looked around at the blurring forest. "Where's Rue?"

"We've got to keep running, Prim. She's probably safe somewhere."

"Will we find her?"

He slowed a fraction. "Maybe." He slapped aside a low-hanging branch. "And maybe it's best if we don't."

Prim gasped. "You wouldn't kill her, would you?"

"If she was trying to kill you then yes, I would."

"Oh, well she won't try to kill me."

He said nothing to that. Didn't he believe her?

They alternated running and jogging for a long time and Prim couldn't get her thoughts straight. She was alive now. Alive with no plan at all. Things just became a whole lot more difficult but…she didn't mind so much. It was nice to still be breathing.

Hours passed. Prim didn't think she could go another step. Her hand cramped around the knife she'd gotten for Peeta. The slingshot she tucked into her belt created a dark bruise against her hipbone from the running.

"Let's rest." Peeta glanced around the forest. Prim hung tight by his side. They'd been running so long, surely no one chased them.

The knife slid from her fingers and plopped onto the ground, crunching some dead leaves. She teetered to a fallen log and sat on it.

"Where'd you get this?" Peeta picked up the knife.

"The Cornucopia. I got it for you." She pulled the slingshot from her belt and rubbed her hipbone. "And this is for Rue."

"Well you can use it until we find her." A cannon startled them both and Peeta looked at the sky. "The fighting at the Cornucopia must have stopped. We'll know who died when the sun sets, that should be pretty soon." One…two…three…on and on the cannon shots went until it reached eleven.

She let the backpack slide from her shoulders, not wanting to think about who died…though she kind of hoped Cato had. She kept imagining his sick grin as he advanced to kill her. She plopped the backpack on her lap. "Let's look in here. I'm so thirsty."

"Wow, you grabbed a lot from the Cornucopia, Prim."

__That's because I was getting it for you and Rue.__ It was easier being brave for others. She opened the brown backpack. Inside were two sets of sunglasses, an empty leather pouch with a drawstring, two rolls of white bandages, a lighter, and a loaf of bread. Down at the very bottom of the pack was a tiny eight-ounce bottle filled with water.

"Wow, a whole loaf." Peeta took it from her and turned it over.

"It'll make us thirsty if we eat it right now." Prim eyed the water. That sure wasn't much. She could drink the whole bottle right now. She almost didn't want to show it to Peeta, but that would be greedy. "Look, we have water."

He glanced at the bottle. "There's not much. Let's each take a sip of water. We'll save the bread for later."

She nodded. Of course they had to share. He let her take the first sip. The lukewarm liquid soothed her sticky throat for one glorious moment. Then she wanted more, but she handed the bottle to Peeta. He took a tiny sip. "Five more minutes, then we'll keep walking to find a river or something."

She nodded with a heavy head, already wishing for sleep and safety. But those things were no longer a part of her life. Now, she was prey.

She tied the drawstring pouch to her belt and then put on the sunglasses. Everything looked darker and muddled with them on. "I wonder what these do." She handed a pair to Peeta.

He looked through them, then tucked one set into his pocket. "They must do _something._ We'll fiddle with them later. Time to get moving again."

They continued walking, only this time Prim wasn't blinded by terror. She took in the terrain and plants around her. Elderberry, dandelion, feverfew, hawthorne, henna…the list went on. She knew these plants. She could __use__ these.

She was walking through a wild apothecary.

Peeta let her gather a few handfuls of this, a few handfuls of that. She stored them in her pack. She also picked up small rocks as they went and put them in the pouch she'd tied to her belt. For some reason, the idea of using the slingshot with some rocks didn't didn't bother her. It'd be good for self defense. How much harm could she really do to someone?

Besides, when they found Rue, it'd be nice to have a pouch of rocks to give her with the slingshot.

Night finally came and Peeta cleared a space beneath a fallen log. Prim's entire body ached and even the lumpy ground looked appealing. She squirmed under the log, cringing against the chill seeping into the dirt. Peeta came in after her. He took his jacket off and laid it over both of them.

"Body heat can keep us a little warmer."

Prim tensed. This was weird. Even though Peeta saved her, he was still a __boy__ and it felt weird to be scrunched under a log next to him. But then again, he was trying to protect her. He was like a big brother. How different was this from Prim falling asleep with Katniss or Mom?

The anthem started up and, through a side-view out from under the log, Prim glimpsed the faces of the fallen tributes. While Peeta counted on his fingers and kept track of their District numbers, Prim just held her breath…waiting for District 11.

It never came.

That meant Rue was alive. So was Thresh, but that didn't matter much to her. He was scary. And huge. Bigger than Cato. Had he killed people today?

"Goodnight, Prim." Peeta clutched the knife in one fist and lay facing outward, keeping watch.

"Goodnight, Peeta. And…thank you for protecting me." She closed her eyes, certain she'd never fall asleep under here. Creepy crawlies moved everywhere on her skin—both imagined and real. She tried not to think of spiders or fire ants or centipedes.

But her body wouldn't let her stay awake too long. Despite the growing cold, Prim slipped into a restless, terrified sleep.

Only a few hours passed before she woke to a strangled scream, echoing from the darkened forest to her left. She bolted upright, smacking her head on the log. Peeta's hand clamped down on her mouth and he shoved her back to the ground. For a wild moment, she was afraid he'd kill her, but then his hiss hit her ears. "They're here. They just killed another tribute nearby."

He breathed heavily, trying to both catch his breath and stifle it. "I think they tracked us."

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~Feel free to check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

**_"How would you live, if you knew the day you'd die?"_**


	14. Chpt 14 - Katniss 1

_Because of all the comments requesting a point-of-view (POV) from Katniss, here's a scene in her eyes, written in first person present tense like the original books. I may do a few of these throughout the story._

_Please leave a review and let me know what you think!_

* * *

.

****14****

I sit on my knees on the floor, inches from the TV screen, watching Prim—__my __Prim—sprint toward the Cornucopia. "No!" I shriek.

My mother, who retreated to her bedroom at the start of the games, dashes back into the room, not strong enough to keep herself from watching. "Has she…?" She doesn't finish her question. Instead, she collapses into the rocker and stares at the screen, just like when she stared at the wall after Father's death. No. Not this again. _Please_ not this again.

I don't say a word. I don't want to talk to her. It's not __her__ fault that Prim's in the games, but I can't bear to let the guilt and anger and hopelessness just..._sit_. I have to blame it on something, on __someone.__ Mother's the nearest option.

Prim's blond braid bounces back and forth as she streaks across the grass. She's not as fast as normal. Something's slowing her legs—her nerves, maybe. The tall beefy blond boy from District 2—Cato—runs on her right, gaining. Gaining.

They'll reach the Cornucopia at the same time.

What is she __doing?__ She and I are both fast, but this…did that drunk, Haymitch, tell her to go for it? I clench my fists, forcing myself to watch. The least I can do for Prim is watch her until the end, support her with my heart.

She enters the cornucopia and grabs things left and right with wild desperation. __Get out of there. __"Get out of there!" I want to shake the stupid console until it jars her head and knocks her into the forest.

She's being so brave.

I hate it. I hate being here, stuck watching.

Cato grabs a sword from one of the cornucopia walls. I'm going to be sick. He stabs a girl running in behind him in the chest, and then slices through a small boy who just entered the cornucopia. The boy looked like he was trying to negotiate being on a team, but Cato didn't even grant him a breath.

Prim hovers over the knives, not noticing Cato. Then some dying tribute screams and she whips around. The camera zooms in on her fear, her wide eyes and innocent face, eating up the drama of the traditional bloodbath. My sister has everyone's attention.

Cato advances and I scream at the screen. "Run! Prim, __run!"__

He lifts his sword and I know it's going to be over. That metal will slice through my little duck like a knife through goat cheese.

Mother whimpers from her chair.

Then comes Peeta—the boy with the bread. The boy who professed his love for me on TV last night. He'd been heading toward the forest when he saw Prim and then he veered toward the cornucopia, yanking a knife from the spine of a dead boy who lay over an orange backpack. He dashes toward Cato. He wants to save her.

He's going to be too late.

"Throw it, you idiot!" But if his aim isn't true, he'll hit Prim.

Three steps closer and he throws. It hits Cato in the head and then tumbles off into the piles of goods. It didn't stick. Cato's alive—the handle probably hit him.

But now he's distracted.

Peeta grabs Prim's arm—she's paler than a bleached sheet—and yanks her toward the forest. They run, Cato turns to kill another tribute, and suddenly my sister's out of view, off screen, no longer the focus of the Capitol viewers.

She's with Peeta.

And I owe him again. I owed him so much when he threw me that burned loaf of bread that saved our lives. Now he's saved Prim's life, at the risk of his own—supposedly because he cares for me.

I owe him again and I don't mind one bit. If that boy gets my sister back home to me, I'll spend the rest of my life giving free meat to his father and his mother (even if she __is__ a witch.)

Mother's hands pinch my shoulder and I'm torn between shoving her away and clutching her icy fingers for strength. "She's alive," I croak.

"Mhmm." She's trembling and I'm surprised she can even stand. As if reading my thoughts, she stumbles back to the rocker and lowers herself down, her face bloodless.

The front door of our house flies open. I spin around, half expecting to see Peeta and Prim dashing inside for safety. It's Gale, my fiancé. My handsome, dark-haired, hunter fiancé who's never seen me cry. I touch my cheeks, just to make sure I'm not crying without knowing it.

They're dry.

"I heard screaming," he says, panting. "I'm sorry I'm late. I couldn't get away from the Hob in time for the start of the Games." His eyes dart from me to Mother and then to me again. "Is…Prim…?"

"She's alive." I push myself to my feet and step into his arms with more force than is necessary for a hug. I need a fierce hug today. He gives it. He always seems to know when I need to pretend to be strong. "Peeta saved her."

Gale says nothing. He's been weird ever since the interviews played last night. I don't know why, it's not like I'm suddenly going to fall in love with a stranger who's been sentenced to a death competition. But, for some reason, he's jealous.

It's because I mentioned Peeta before last night. I mentioned him on the day of the Reaping. After Prim was taken away, Gale came to see how I was doing and I babbled like an idiot, still recovering from the fact my sister was wrenched from my arms. "He'll protect her, Gale—Peeta Mellark will. He saved our lives once. We were in the same school and he always watched me. He'll protect her. He saved me…I know he'll save her. I know it."

I can't say what made me so certain. But there was something about Peeta's look when he was reaped. He didn't stare at his parents or look at Effie or glance at the cameras. No…

…he looked at me.

Despite the sad droop to his eyes and the quaking of his hands, his gaze held a determined ferocity. And I knew in that moment that he'd do everything he could for Prim. I knew he wouldn't kill her.

And then he had to go and profess his love for me and ruin everything. Sure, it could have been a ploy to protect Prim—to gain the Capitol's sympathy and to help Prim trust him (which was completely unnecessary because Prim trusts everyone way too easily) but I know it's true. I'd noticed him watching me as we grew up. I thought it was because he was waiting for me to say thank you for the bread. My pride wouldn't allow it. But now, on this side of our youth and our tragedy, I see his looks and his attention differently.

I think he really did—__does__—like me. And, in a way, I'm happy for him because it'll give him meaning in the games. It will give him hope and, if he has hope, then he'll protect Prim.

But it could never change how I feel for Gale.

Never…

Yet, as I watch him rescue Prim and risk his own life, as I hear him shout, _"___Oh my gosh, Prim, get out of here!"__ with the same type of desperation that I had in my voice…I half-wish he could come home safely so I can thank him.

Still, to get him and Prim home…that's impossible.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~Feel free to check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

**_"How would you live, if you knew the day you'd die?"_**


	15. Chpt 15 - Day Two in the Games (pt 1)

****15****

"What do we do?" Prim clung to Peeta as the girl's strangled scream died away. Was it Rue? What if they just killed Rue!

The cannon boomed.

"Be quiet and don't move." Peeta rummaged in their bag and pulled out the sunglasses, jamming them on to his face. Prim caught a glimpse through one lens and barely held back a gasp. They gave him night vision! The trees were clear as day and the lenses illuminated human movement.

Voices startled her. "Let's get going," a young boy said. "If someone heard that scream, they'll be coming."

"Or they'll be running." Cato's voice. "Either way, it's more prey for us. Just sit quiet and listen for a few minutes."

The blanket of night muted their voices. Prim held her breath, but it only made her want to breathe more, so she buried her face in her sleeve. Hopefully the fabric would hide any noise.

Five minutes passed.

Ten.

Twenty.

Could Cato and the other boy __still__ be there?

"I'm bored," a girl whined.

"Shut up, Clove." Leaves rustled as the Careers started moving again. Peeta reached back, pressing down on Prim with his arm. Footsteps scuffed past their log. "Let's go find someone else."

A few grunts conveyed there were more than just three of them. Cato, Clove, a boy, and…someone else. Did any of them have the night glasses?

Their sounds moved on and shortly after, a hovercraft showed up, lowered a claw into the forest where the girl screamed, and then sped away. Prim tried to glimpse the body it picked up, but it was too dark.

__Please don't let it be Rue!__

"We should get out of here," Peeta muttered.

"No." Prim couldn't leave, not yet. They'd be caught for sure. "They won't check here again for a long while. Let's just keep sleeping." As if she could fall back asleep after that.

Someone just died.

Too many people died today and she witnessed it. She couldn't help anyone, not even herself. She couldn't bear this!

"Just try to go back to sleep, Prim." Peeta's voice sounded pained. He left the night glasses on and clutched the hatchet and knife close to his chest.

Prim tried to sleep. She really tried, but the drifting in and out only left her exhausted and on the brink of nightmares. She ached for the sunrise, if only to move from this place. But Peeta needed the sleep. Somehow, he managed to fall asleep despite the chill, despite the death, despite the fear. But when light came, Prim shook him awake. Her tongue felt rough against the roof of her mouth. "Can we drink some of the water? And maybe eat something?"

"Sure," Peeta grunted, yanking open the pack. They each took one more sip of water from the tiny water bottle. It was half empty now. Peeta sliced a thick piece of bread for each of them. He cut it from the middle, and then pushed the two bread halves back together. "By leaving the ends on, the inside of the loaf will stay fresh longer."

Signs of a baker's son.

They crawled out from under the log, Prim's instincts on alert. This arena was huge, but she was certain someone—Cato—would be hiding nearby, ready to cut her with his machete. "Good thing _they_ didn't have night glasses."

Peeta brushed dirt from his clothes. "Good thing you grabbed the backpack that __did__ have night glasses." He handed her the other pair. "Keep these in your jacket pocket." He left the rest of the sentence unspoken: __in case we get separated__ or __in case I die.__

"What now?"

He looked around at the forest. "We need to find water." With that, he took the lead into the forest.

Prim followed and cringed every time he snapped a branch or crunched leaves—which was…with every footstep. She was much quieter. Was it because she was small? Was it because she'd been around Katniss so much?

"I think maybe we should head back to the lake."

Her head snapped up. "No! That's where Cato and everyone will be." She'd seen past games. If the Career Tributes survived the bloodbath—which they usually did—then they owned the cornucopia.

"Prim, what if that's the only source of water?"

Her stomach turned cold. "It can't be. This is a forest, there's got to be a river somewhere."

"This is the Hunger Games. They __made__ this arena. It doesn't work like real forests."

"Can we just look? For one more day? If we don't find water by tonight, we can go to the lake tomorrow, okay?" Today was different than yesterday. Yesterday, she was ready to die at the cornucopia, but she'd survived. And she didn't feel so brave today. She wished, by some miracle, she could go back home.

But that was selfish because, in order to survive, that meant Peeta and Rue would both have to die.

They walked for hours and her thighs ached. What was the purpose? Once they found water, then what? Prim wanted, more than anything, to find Rue and make sure she was safe. Tonight, when the dead tributes were projected into the sky, she'd know which girl died last night. _Please, don't let it be Rue!_

She and Peeta had long since stopped any talking. She couldn't tell if his footsteps were getting quieter or if the forest noises—birds, bugs, wind—were just getting louder. Something was getting louder, like television static.

Peeta threw his arm out to stop her. "Do you hear that?" His voice, barely a whisper, sent her nerves into spiraled terror.

"No." She heard nothing. Had he seen someone?

"That static sound…I think it's a river."

Her terror fled. "Where?"

He held a finger to his lips and they continued forward. As the rushing sound grew louder, Prim's excitement danced inside her. Water! They found it! They wouldn't have to go to the lake! It __had__ to be a river. Nothing else could make that sound.

They passed a clump of trees and, in the distance, the ground sloped downward just a bit. A river. There it was.

She wanted to run to it, but didn't dare make so much noise. Patience. She would follow. Peeta remained on the alert, his hatchet held a little higher than normal. Large rocks and boulders lined the bank of the river as they got closer. Prim and Peeta rounded one and, on the other side…

…was a Career tribute.

Marvel, from District 1. He was bending over some sort of netted trap on the ground, weaving knots and tying off ends. Setting up a trap for some future tribute. But his head snapped up at their approach. His eyes widened and he leapt to his feet, yanking a dagger from the dirt.

Peeta was faster. He hurled his hatchet just as Prim knocked his arm, screaming, "NO!"

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~Feel free to check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	16. Chpt 16 - Marvel

****16****

Peeta's hatchet thunked into Marvel's shoulder. Marvel startled with wide eyes, dropped his dagger, and fell to the ground.

Prim's scream died on her lips.

"You made me miss!" Peeta shouted at her, but from the sweat on his brow and the tears in his eyes, Prim could tell his shout came from fear, not anger. "Now, I have to…" He groaned.

Now he had to finish the job.

Marvel whimpered on the ground, his free hand reaching for the hatchet, but not strong enough to pull it out. Blood covered the left side of his body. Prim stared with her mouth opened. A spear lay on the ground, but not near enough for Marvel to grasp it

"We have to hurry." Peeta strode toward Marvel. "Someone will have heard your scream, Prim."

What was he going to do? She stumbled after him. "Wait…wait." She'd screamed __No!__ because she didn't want Peeta to kill Marvel. She didn't want __anyone__ to die and that was completely unfair of her. She couldn't ask Peeta to hold to the same decisions __she__ made, not to kill anyone.

He said he'd even kill Rue if he had to, to keep Prim safe. Now she just made this kill harder for him. But as he reached Marvel, she knew she couldn't let him finish the job. She couldn't let Peeta turn into a monster.

Peeta hovered a good three feet away from Marvel. He kicked aside the dropped dagger and the spear, then scanned the rest of Marvel's outfit. "I think he's unarmed."

Marvel was in his own world of pain. His wild eyes darted between the two of them. "Please…"

Please what? Leave? Save him? Kill him quickly?

Prim couldn't handle it. She ran toward him and fell to her knees. A sob burst from her throat. The boy was hurting. Hurting bad. "Peeta…help me. Get the bandages from the backpack."

"What? No! Prim, we can't…"

She didn't argue. If Peeta wanted to kill Marvel, he'd have to wrestle Prim away from his wounded body to do it. Mom trained Prim to be a healer and, if she wouldn't kill in the games…then she'd do the opposite. She'd heal.

The hatchet wasn't too deep. His collarbone stopped it from doing any real damage. "Peeta, give me your knife and get me one roll of the bandages."

He did as she asked, but said under his breath, "I don't think this is wise, Prim. We should get out of here, let him take care of himself."

Why didn't Peeta get it? Marvel was wounded and needed help. That's what people did, they helped each other, Hunger Games or not. "You can go if you want to. But leave me the bandages."

She cut Marvel's jacket from the collar to the hatchet blade and peeled it back to reveal the full wound. Already, the skin swelled.

Peeta rubbed a hand down his face, huffed out a sigh, and then patted down Marvel's body. "I don't think he has any more weapons. Be on alert, though Prim. He's still got a good arm." He set the roll of bandages on a rock next to her. "I'll fill our water bottle."

He was staying. He wasn't going to desert her, even though she was currently putting them in danger. He really did love Katniss if he was willing to let Prim save an enemy.

Marvel's eyes were squeezed tight shut and he trembled. "Get it out. Get it out." His free hand clenched and unclenched, then pounded the dirt. "Get it out!"

Prim laid a hand on his forehead. "Shhh…I will. Just try to be calm." If only she had some valerian flowers to help him with the pain and to put him to sleep…or catnip leaves to slow the bleeding. "Peeta, can you find me some moss?"

It took her an hour. Peeta stood watch while Prim pressured the wound around the hatchet with moss and with some of Marvel's shirt. It staunched the flow rather well. When she finally pulled the hatchet blade from his shoulder muscle, Marvel arched his back and groaned from deep in his throat. Then she bandaged it as best she could with one of the bandages from the backpack. Now, though, he lay staring off toward the river with glassy eyes.

Prim had seen this look before. Pain shock. But she'd treated him before he lost too much blood. He should be okay. She covered him in his own coat. "If you can, try to let yourself sleep."

Peeta crouched over the river, the water bottle in both hands. She approached him, but he didn't look up. "So now what?"

"What do you mean?"

He looked at her with hollow eyes. "Can we leave him now? Can we move on?"

Prim's throat closed. "Why…why can't he join us?" It was a stupid question. She'd seen Marvel during training—throwing spears into the heart of every dummy. She could almost hear the Capitol viewers whispering from their sides of the TV screens, _"___She's going to die soon. Marvel will stab her in the back, the little fool."__

"He's a ruthless Career who just tried to kill us."

"Why don't you leave, Peeta?" She didn't want him to go away, not at all. She liked his comforting presence and his protection. But she couldn't ask him to make the same choices as she was. She couldn't ask him to let everyone live. This was his open door, he didn't need to feel bad for leaving her, she was putting him in danger. "I don't mind. I want you to win, Peeta. If you stay with me, I'll only make it harder for you. You can head toward the lake if you want. Take the bread, too."

He turned toward her and looked into her face for a long moment. Then he pulled her into a hug. "I'm not going to leave you, Prim."

"Don't think about Katniss," she mumbled into his coat. "She won't blame you for leaving me." __Yes she will, but don't admit it.__ "Don't stay here just because of her."

He chuckled and leaned back, taking a sip of water. "It's not just because of Katniss, Prim. I want to protect you and help you…for __your__ sake, too. I'm not so one-track-minded."

"So you're really going to stay with me? Even if I keep taking care of Marvel?"

"All the way to the end, Prim."

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	17. Chpt 17 - Day Two in the Games (pt 2)

****17****

"Why'd you do this?" Marvel's voice startled Prim. He'd been sleeping for a few hours and she didn't expect him to wake so soon. It was almost dark and she watched the sky, anticipating the anthem to see whether or not it was Rue who Cato killed earlier this morning.

Peeta jumped to his feet at Marvel's question. "No talking."

Marvel glared at him. "I'll do what I want. Your little friend won't let you kill me, so your threats mean nothing." He turned his gaze back to Prim. "So, why'd you do this?"

Why did he ask? Wasn't it obvious? "You were injured."

"Because of _him._" Marvel jerks his head toward Peeta. "Why'd you try to stop him? What am I to you?"

She straightened her spine. "A person."

He growled and then sucked in a breath, clutching his wrapped shoulder. When he caught his breath, he lay flat on his back, but his words were clear. "You're going to die then."

Did he mean she'd die in general? Or did he mean—gulp—that he'd kill her? "I know."

A humorous laugh bubbles from his pain-tensed lips. "Freak."

"Get some rest," Peeta snapped, stepping between Prim and Marvel. "We're moving on in the morning, whether you're feeling up to it or not."

"What makes you think I'll go with you?"

Peeta shrugged. "Fine. Don't."

Prim grabbed his sleeve. "He has to. That is a big wound and infection might set. I need to keep it clean."

"We can't stay here just for him," Peeta said under his breath. "Otherwise he'll start thinking he can control us."

"I'm going to kill both of you!" Marvel's shout echoed through the forest, startling some mockingjays.

"Shut _up._" Peeta kicked dirt his way, then rounded on Prim. "Can I gag him?"

She stared at Marvel. Would he really kill them the moment he could move? Maybe gagging him would be best. Maybe they _should_ leave him behind.

"Don't you get it?" Marvel said. "If I'm loud enough, my team will come for me. And then they'll kill you."

When Peeta spoke next, it was with eerie calm. "Oh, really?" He took a step closer to Marvel. "It's hard for me to believe Cato would want to save a wounded tribute who's not even from his own district, who's _weaponless._"

"Cato has control of the cornucopia. He'll give me whatever weapons I want." Despite the bravado, Marvel's voice wavered.

"_Or_—" Peeta's speech was deadly soft and he stepped even closer, "Cato will just slit your helpless throat and get one tribute closer to the win."

Prim had never heard Peeta talk like this. Threatening. Creepy. Angry. Did she know him at all?

Abruptly, Peeta straightened and his voice returned to a normal, nonchalant, afternoon-tea tone. "But, whatever. If you have that much faith in the bloodthirsty Career tribute you met only a week ago, then by all means, call him. Then you'll be off our hands." Peeta looked around the forest as if curious. "Actually, I'll call him for you so you don't have to risk tearing open your wound. Cato! Cato! Oh, CATO!"

"STOP!" Prim shrieked, clamping palms over her ears, but not before she heard Marvel yell the same thing.

Hands gently pulled hers away and Peeta whispered so only she could hear. "I'm sorry. Trust me." Then he turned to Marvel. "You want me to stop? Did you change your mind?"

"Just shut up, pretty boy. Okay, so I'm at your mercy, but don't think I won't kill you the first chance I get."

"I'd never think that." Peeta walked to the river, filled the tiny eight-ounce water bottle, and held it up toward Marvel. "Thirsty?"

Just then, the anthem began. Prim pressed her hands together and held them up against her lips, watching the sky. A face showed up in the sky.

Not Rue.

It was some girl of whom Prim hardly took notice, whose district number she couldn't even remember. "It's not Rue."

"I'm glad, for your sake." Peeta tossed the water bottle to Marvel, then started scooping dirt out from under an over-hanging boulder. The gap beneath it was wide enough for two people. "We'll stay here one night and then find better shelter. For now, I'll take first watch. Make sure this idiot doesn't try something stupid."

Peeta didn't need to call Marvel names. It'd only make Marvel hate him more. But maybe it was an act. Prim knew Peeta—he wasn't a mean person. Maybe, because he knew Marvel was drawn to the leading type like Cato, maybe Peeta was trying to act tough. So Marvel would respect him. The more Prim thought about it, the more it made sense to her.

Prim scooted into the space under the boulder. "Keep an eye out for Rue, too, while you're awake."

"I will."

Prim let out a sigh. "I wonder where she is."

"Here I am!" Up popped Rue from behind a boulder at the river's edge, sporting a half-shy half-mischievous grin.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	18. Chpt 18 - Rue

****18****

Rue's chipper tweet of a voice startled Prim so much she smashed her forehead against the rock's underside. "Rue!"

"Rue." Peeta sounded relieved.

Marvel rolled his eyes. "Great, another tender-hearted idiot."

Rue yanked a handmade wooden sling out of her pocket and shot a rock right into Marvel's thigh. It hit him with a bruising __thwack!__ He grunted, but didn't say anything. A sling and a rock weren't much threat, but Prim was glad to see Rue defending herself against jibes. For some reason, she knew Rue wouldn't kill Marvel either. "Are you going to join us?"

Rue glanced at Peeta. He smiled. "Of course you're joining us. We were going to start searching for you tomorrow, anyway."

"I know." She bounced over to where Prim lay and crawled in as if it were her own bed. "I'll take second watch."

And that was that. Rue was with them. All of Prim's worries dissipated as she and her friend burrowed like little gophers getting comfortable. She could tell, just by Rue's actions and sleeping position, that she had a sister, too.

"My sister is Katniss. She's older than me."

"Is she the girl Peeta likes?"

Prim nodded, a twist in her gut reminding her of Peeta's promise and his nonexistent happy ending. "She's wonderful. I bet every boy likes her."

"But Peeta's really nice. Do you think she'd like __him?__"

Peeta plopped down by the opening, leaning his back up against the boulder. "I can hear you two."

They giggled into their hands.

"Go to sleep." The smile in his voice made Prim grin.

"Good-night, Peeta."

"Good-night girls."

It was good of him to take first watch, and especially kind of Rue. Prim hadn't thought to offer to take a watch. She'd relieve Rue in the morning. She was good at waking up early—that was always when she milked Lady.

Rue closed her dark eyes and practically blended into the dirt. The fact she revealed herself to them told Prim a lot about how trustworthy Peeta was. Rue wouldn't trust just 's how Prim and she were different. Rue was so cautious, hiding and observing. How long had she been following them before she decided to pop up?

Prim…well, Prim trusted so many people. Katniss used to tell her to be careful, especially when she'd give goat cheese to Peacekeepers. But everyone had good inside of them, and that seemed to be all Prim could see when she looked at a person. Even Marvel had good. She saw the terror in his eyes when they caught him making the net trap. At home he had a family, maybe even a little sister, maybe even a girlfriend who missed him.

Prim teared at the very thought.

She didn't want to be tough. She didn't want to stop caring about people. Helping Marvel and finding Rue reminded her how much she loved…life. And if she could give life to others during the Games, then the Reaping was worth it.

.

* * *

.

"I'm pretty good at finding edible food," Prim told Rue the next morning. Peeta let them go foraging together as long as they __didn't-under-any-circumstances-wander-too-far-away-or-get-separated._ S_he'd spent part of the morning tending to Marvel's wound. He didn't speak to or look at her the whole time.

"I'm really good at climbing." Rue knelt and picked up another rock to add to her slingshot stash. "Oh, and whistling."

Prim stopped at a berry patch, examined the light-purple fruit, and started picking. "I wish I could whistle."

"It took me a long time to learn." Rue sent up a soft three-note whistle. The mockingjays repeated it, harmonizing with each added bird-voice. Prim made a little bowl out of her jacket and filled it with berries. They both ate some here and there. Peeta wouldn't mind. "So what are we going to do?"

Prim wiped berry juice off her fingers onto her pants. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, how are we going to win? The Careers have been spending all their time at the Cornucopia. They're always protecting it and one boy keeps digging holes everywhere. I think they have a plan."

"Maybe they're burying the food." But why would they bury it? To keep Prim and the others from getting it? That didn't make sense. "Let's just get a lot of our own food right now. Then we'll talk to Peeta."

Once they had enough berries, they found some nuts, herbs, and honeysuckle. Prim's fingers were stained purple from the berries. She made sure not to spill a single one as they made their way back to the river. Peeta would be so proud.

They were halfway there when Rue pulled up short. Prim stopped too, accidentally spilling a handful of berries from her coat, but Rue's tense face and darting eyes alerted her. They stood stalk still for a full minute before Prim whispered, "What is it?"

Rue took a tentative step forward. "I…I think…someone's following us."

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	19. Chpt 19 - Day Three in the Games (pt 1)

****19****

Rue whipped out her sling and had it loaded with a sharp stone before Prim could even register fear. Prim pulled hers out of her belt and followed suit, of only to do something with her hands. Rue turned and they stood back to back for a moment. Prim scanned the forestry but couldn't even spot a place where anyone __could__ hide. Was Rue certain she heard something?

"Maybe we should get back to Peeta," Prim whispered. At the mention of Peeta's name her imagination took off like a startled bird. What if Marvel had attacked Peeta somehow? What if __Marvel__ was following them, preparing to stab them with his spear?

"Let's go." Rue's voice was fierce and determined. She and Prim sprinted at the same time side-by-side, neither one gaining ahead. They were a team.

Bushes crashed apart, twigs snapped, and Prim threw a glance over her shoulder. No one. But she felt it now—she felt followed.

They burst into the section by the river and there lay Marvel, still sleeping with an angry frown on his face. Peeta sat on a stone by the river with Marvel's spear hovering over the flowing water. A stack of dead fish—all with a wide hole in their bodies—lay on the ground beside him. He jumped to his feet at their approach, the spear now poised in a throwing position.

Instinctively, Prim squealed, "It's us!"

"I won't kill you on accident," he said, sounding a little insulted.

"Someone was following us." Rue kept her slingshot tight in her hand.

Prim looked back into the forest and still saw no one. "She __thinks__ someone was following us." If only Rue was wrong.

"It's probably Cato." Marvel gave a nasty grin, pushing himself to a sitting position.

"Then we better get moving." Peeta acted as though Marvel's words didn't scare him, but his eyes darted back and forth, scanning the forest. Prim didn't like thinking of Peeta being afraid. He was their protector.

"We brought some food." She showed him her cupped jacket. Maybe that would calm him.

"Good job, girls. Stow it in the pack and let's get going." He jerked his head at Marvel. "Get up."

"What if I can't?" Marvel sneered.

"Well, seeing as how you're wounded, weaponless, and without any food…I don't think it'd be in your best interest to be defiant and stay here."

Marvel growled—he actually __growled__—like a caged cat, then pushed himself to his feet.

"We'll give you some of our food." Prim gestured to their supplies.

"Just shut up." Marvel focused on not jostling his bandaged arm.

Peeta slung the pack over his shoulder, slid the hatchet into his belt, and used the spear as a walking stick. "We'll, um..." he glanced around, "head back into the forest, retracing where you felt followed, and then curve back to the river."

Marvel snorted.

"Do you have a better idea?" Peeta's knuckles whitened on the spear-staff.

"Peeta's doing the best he can!" Prim exclaimed, planting her hand son her hips. "He's going to keep all of us __safe.__ Don't you want to be safe?"

Marvel sighed and stared up at the sky as though imagining Prim's face up there, proclaiming her death. She had an urge to stomp her foot on the ground, but that would just make her appear more immature. She didn't want to give Marvel more reason to be cruel. But didn't he __want__ to be safe? Who wouldn't want safety? Life? __Friends?__

It made no sense.

Marvel teetered on his feet. Despite his bravado, his pale skin revealed the effort standing took. He shouldn't be walking yet, not after such a wound. But the Games didn't follow the normal rules of healing. She stepped closed to Peeta. "Maybe we should give Marvel some bread."

Without a word, Peeta ripped off a small chunk and tossed it to Marvel. Marvel caught it in his good hand before he even looked at it—signs of someone who was used to catching and throwing…weapons.

Marvel glared at Peeta. "The more food you give me, the more strength I get with which to kill you."

"If you're that much against us feeding and helping you, then just give the bread back." Poor Peeta. More and more, Prim wished she had the power to force him to leave—to be free of these burdens she brought to their small group, such as wounded enemies.

Marvel stuffed the bread in his mouth. "Better get moving before Cato shows up." Was that a warning? Or was Marvel just afraid of being killed by his fellow Career tribute?

"You're right." Was Peeta really agreeing with him? Or playing an angle?

Prim rubbed her eyes. Too much over-thinking.

They set out for the forest, Rue in the lead, Marvel next with Peeta directly behind him, and Prim bringing up the rear. She didn't like being in the back—it made her feel as though Cato could come up behind her and snatch her away before anyone noticed—but she understood why Peeta put her there. Rue somehow knew how to navigate through the forest, Peeta could monitor Marvel, and Prim was safe to run if she needed to.

The forest seemed more ominous, even though it was broad daylight. Prim scanned the ground. There. Imprints in the dirt. "Peeta," she hissed. "There are footprints." They seemed small. It must be a girl following them. Who else had small feet?

"I think those are yours and Rue's, from when you came this way the first time."

Prim's cheeks flared with heat. Of course they were. How stupid of her.

Marvel guffawed, loud and echoing. Peeta knocked him in the temple with the butt of the spear. "Shut it."

Marvel obeyed, but the look he gave Peeta from Prim's point of view, was more murderous than any one she'd seen before this. He was dangerous. Too dangerous. But she still didn't regret saving him. It went against everything Mom trained her to be.

"This is the spot," Rue whispered, and stopped.

All except Marvel scanned the area. Peeta ventured a few feet into the forest. He didn't seem to know what to look for and why should he? He was a baker's son. But Prim noticed something or, rather, the __absence__ of something. When they all congregated again she spoke in a low voice. "The berries that I spilled aren't here anymore. Someone picked them up."

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	20. Chpt 20 - Katniss 2

****20****

I sit with Gale, clutching his hand tighter than I would the wrung-neck of a turkey.

This is the last straw.

Prim saved Marvel's life. She's been the same Prim I've always known and I love it yet hate it with every fiber of my being. "No one's going to sponsor her if she doesn't __kill__ anyone!"

But maybe they will. She's gaining __some __sympathy since the Capitol is giving her so much screen time.

Gale stays calm and cool beside me, like a glass of winter-chilled water. I hate that he's seeing me panic, but he's the only one I can panic __with.__ If I panic in front of Mother, she comes dangerously close to returning to her half-coma state.

The moment Prim and Rue—who reminds me incredibly of Prim, only with darker skin and an extra swallow of bravery—walk into the forest to collect berries, I know something's wrong. The Capitol commentators start speaking up.

"Take a look here." A small screen pops in the corner of the Games feed, showing Claudius Templesmith's face with his nasty blond half-afro. "The female tribute from District 5 is closing in on Prim and Rue. We haven't seen much violence from her, but maybe this will be when she makes her move."

That stupid red-head girl—Foxface, is what I call her—has been following tributes here and there, snatching up food or belongings—not enough to be noticed, but enough to help her survive. It's sneaky and smart and I wish I could scream loud enough to send information through the screen to my little duck. __Get out of there!__

But Foxface hovers, using stealth that makes me jealous and elicits a, "She's good," from Gale.

I almost snap at him, but even I have to admit her stealth could surprise a cougar. But as Rue and Prim are heading back to the river, Foxface makes a mistake. Her knee buckles and she falls hard enough to snap a small branch. I don't know why her knee buckled—she must be famished. Starving. Weak.

Good.

That means maybe she won't be able kill my sister.

"They need to get back to Peeta." It slips out before I can catch myself.

Gale stiffens beside me. "He can't do anything."

"He saved her life once." __And mine, once, too.__ I need to defend him. Gale doesn't understand. Right now, with the way Prim is handling things, Peeta's her only hope. Can't Gale __see__ that?

Rue halts Prim and they stand stock still. The camera flashes between them and Foxface, who freezes as though dead. They stand there for a long time. They should be running! Even if they __do__ figure out who's behind them, what good will their slingshots do?

But Foxface doesn't make a move. Finally, Rue and Prim run back to their little camp. Back to Peeta who's up with a spear in his hand the moment they come into view. Everything in me relaxes and I think Gale notices.

"Don't place too much hope in him, Katniss."

"Don't strip me of my hope, Gale." I shove off the musty old couch and stand behind it. Why is he so insistent on stealing away my comfort? "What's wrong with you? Are you jealous of Peeta?"

"Of course not." Jealousy is beneath Gale. Or maybe he just won't admit it. I don't like thinking of him being jealous. It makes him seem…weak. Unstable.

Once Peeta, the girls, and Marvel start moving the view switches to Cato and his gang, piling all the items from the cornucopia. "I'm going to the Hob."

Gale turns to look at me. "What for? We've no game to trade."

"I'm gonna get Prim some sponsor money." Even if it means hunting all day and night, risking my life against the PeaceKeepers, breaking curfew…

But the sponsor money's not really for Prim. It's for Peeta, though I can't tell __Gale__ that. Prim wouldn't know what to do with parachutes from Haymitch. If I want her coming back alive…then I need to make sure that Peeta has everything he needs.

I need to make sure he survives. At least until he and Prim are the last ones standing.

Then he'll need to die.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	21. Chpt 21 - Day Three in the Games (pt 2)

****21****

They curved back to the river after an hour and then waded upstream, __in__ the stream, to keep their tracks from being noticed. Prim sludged at the back of the pack, her legs aching with every step. Marvel was pale and Peeta breathed hard.

"Can we stop to eat?" Rue asked.

__Yes please.__ Prim looked to Peeta who finally nodded and they settled on a narrow strip of bank. It was less than ideal with no real shelter and a lot of mud in which to leave tracks. Prim went around, handing out a small serving of berries.

"Think it's safe to start a fire?" Peeta toyed with his fish. They weren't so fresh any more and smelled almost rancid. Prim's mouth watered at the very thought of eating a fire-roasted fish.

But…__was__ it safe to have a fire?

"I think it'd be fine." Marvel didn't look up from his bread.

Prim stilled and Peeta looked at Marvel with narrowed eyes. "You do, do you? That's it then, no fire."

Prim's heart flopped down into her boots. How badly she wanted that fish! Was Marvel being truthful or sly? Did he think Cato was nearby? Who could even see smoke at this distance?

"Prim, want to pass out the bread?"

Her shoulders slumped and she took the bread from Peeta. "Sure." Bread and berries. No fish. How silly of her to expect elaborate meals as they fought for survival in a forest. She was being selfish. "I used to make goat cheese at home," she said to lighten the mood. And to distract her fish-craving stomach.

"Whoopee." Marvel stuffed his entire serving of bread into his mouth in one go.

"It was from my goat, Lady." Her throat closed. Who was milking Lady while she was gone? Surely Katniss was. Yes…Katniss would be. Katniss knew how much Prim loved Lady and Buttercup.

Rue nibbled on her bread and Peeta picked at his as though not hungry.

"That's the last of it." Prim almost choked on the words. After this, they'd __have__ to find their food. Good thing there were fish in the river. Good thing there was a river at all or they'd die of dehydration.

"Better cook the fish then." Marvel gave a humorless laugh and tossed the berries into his mouth.

"Why are you so angry?" Prim split her own piece of bread in half and tucked the other half in her coat pocket. Even though she wanted to eat it, she had other plans.

"Why are you so ditzy and smiley all the time?" he retorted.

She tried not to let it get to her. "Because my mom raised me to be like this.

"Well __I__ was raised like this."

"What, brooding and wanting to kill people?" How could anyone be raised with such a harsh personality?

"I was trained to kill children." Marvel said it as if to disgust her, but she already knew that much—he was a Career.

If this were on camera, he'd be in trouble. Tributes weren't supposed to train for the Games. Would the Capitol kill him now because he said that? "Does that mean you __like__ killing people?"

"You wouldn't understand."

She lifted her chin. "You're right, I __don't__ understand how someone could __want__ to kill someone else." Surely Marvel was lying. No one could enjoy death and murder. No one.

"I don't want to kill people, alright? I want to __win the Games__ and live in all the glory, and I'm willing to do anything for that! Including cutting that smile right off your perfect little face."

His threats didn't bother her, but her heart sank like a wilted flower. What a tragic way to think and live. "Why would you pursue being something you hate? That destroys the whole point of living."

She shook her head and turned her back on him. No one else spoke.

For a breath, Prim felt utterly alone. But then a small body plopped itself down next to her. Prim looked up and there sat Rue, smiling and holding out some extra berries. "I'm glad we're together."

Prim broke into a smile. "Me too."

"Ten more minutes and then we've got to keep moving." Peeta started assembling their things. "Maybe…we can start a fire at our next stop. If it's still light enough."

He was learning. He was learning safety out in the forest. Prim knew he'd barely strayed from his bakery, but he had a keen mind. Because of that, she knew they'd only grow stronger as a group—as a…__family__—the longer the Games went on.

Once everyone was up and ready—Marvel looking the worst of the bunch—they continued on. Prim took the rear again, but this time she didn't mind. She had something she wanted to…try.

As they waded back into the river, she glanced back briefly to where she'd left her second half of bread resting on the stone she'd been sitting on.

Whoever had followed her and Rue was…hungry. And berries never filled anyone's stomach very much. It always left Prim's churning on a false empty-feeling.

Enemy or not, Cato or not…Prim hoped the tribute found her bread…

…and the note she scratched in the dirt beneath it.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	22. Chpt 22 - Peeta

****22****

__I'm not your enemy.__ – __Prim__

That's what Prim left in the dirt. The tribute might not even be following them anymore, but she knew better. And she finally had something else on which to focus her thoughts instead of Marvel's ribbing.

When they made camp, the sun hadn't set yet and Prim was sure they were miles away from the Cornucopia. Peeta must have thought so, too, because he started a fire.

"Let's go get some roasting sticks!" Rue squealed, hopping to her feet.

"Stay around here." Peeta glanced between them and Marvel.

"Okay." Prim wanted to be close, just in case Marvel tried to hurt Peeta—not that she could do much to help Peeta, but still.

She and Rue weaved behind the little rock cave they'd found and searched the ground for skewers. They were finally going to eat the fish! Prim had more fun gathering herbs and berries. Besides, Rue had an eye for useful branches. "It's how I made my slingshot so quickly."

Prim looked closer at the slingshot. The branch was sturdy and the elastic part was made of a rubber band. "Where did you get the rubber band?"

Rue's smile slid from her face. "Well, when I got into the forest—I didn't run toward the Cornucopia or anything—there was a dead tribute girl. I didn't know who'd killed her, but she had a rubberband holding her hair back in a braid, so I…stole it." She looked up at Prim as though waiting for a reprimand. "Do you think that's okay?"

"I don't see anything wrong with it." She slid a handful of tiny purple berries off a branch. "I think that was really smart."

Rue lit up. "You do?"

"Yeah! I wouldn't have thought of something like that." Prim would have fled the dead body on first sight.

Rue nearly skipped through the forest after that. Prim threw a berry at her and they had a moment of giggles and berry-throwing. "Open your mouth and try to catch one."

Prim obeyed and Rue's berry hit her in the eye. They collapsed in a fit of giggles. "We better get back."

"Kay."

Still giggling, they made their way back to camp, but not before Prim let half her berries fall out of her pocket for the tribute following them…if the tribute was still there. Prim would check the next day and see if the berries were eaten or not.

The smoked fish was superb. Each of them got their own fish. Prim sprinkled some crushed thyme she'd found in the forest on the fish. The fire itself was luxury enough as night fell, but they had to put it out before it got too dark, otherwise it would be a beacon. Peeta filled up the water bottle and walked back to the fire.

"What are you doing?" Marvel asked.

Peeta rolled his eyes. "Putting out the fire—"

"Don't do it with water, idiot. "Marvel launched to his feet and then doubled over, clutching his shoulder. "Smoke's more obvious than the light."

"What do you suggest?" Peeta's tone was raised, but Prim didn't miss the desire to learn behind his question.

In response, Marvel kicked a chunk of dirt onto the flames. "Smother it." The moment Peeta started helping him, Marvel sat back down. He'd helped all he wanted to. But even though he treated Peeta rudely and he wouldn't help anymore, Prim noticed something that lifted her spirits.

He didn't want to be found. Maybe…maybe he was coming around and realizing they were on __his__ side.

She left a portion of her fish up on a rock on the edge of camp before curling up next to Rue in their tiny cave. Peeta still wouldn't allow Marvel to join them inside.

"Probably a wise move." Marvel's teeth flashed when he grinned.

"I'll take first watch." Peeta plopped himself at the edge of the cave, facing outward.

His back was to the girls and he watched Marvel closely, but Marvel just shoved a bunch of dead leaves into a pile and climbed into the pile. "Sweet dreams, you psychos."

The anthem played with no dead tributes to announce. An hour passed and Prim still couldn't fall asleep. She should have taken first watch so Peeta could sleep. She tugged his jacket and he turned his head. "Let's switch. I'll take first watch."

"No, Prim, you get some rest."

She crawled out of her space and the rush of air that hit her as she pulled away from Rue's body heat made her shiver. In her sleep, Rue curled into a ball. "Peeta, I'll take watch, okay? You need to rest. You've been…a really good leader."

He sighed. "I don't know, Prim. I don't really know what I'm doing. This whole thing just seems…unwise."

She sat down next to him and scooted close, trying to give him some of her own body heat. "What do you mean?"

He rubbed his eyes. "I don't know if I should really share it with you."

She hung her head. "It's because of Marvel and everything, isn't it?"

"Kind of." He absently rubbed his hands together, as though working through a lump of dough. "What do you think is going to happen? At the end of all this? The Gamemakers won't let us keep building an alliance, especially when we're __forcing__ an alliance."

Prim's voice was quiet. "I've tried not to think of what will happen." Because the truth was, all but one had to die. She only hoped she'd die first, under the illusion that a family in the Games could work. Then she'd never have to see the aftermath.

"I think the people of the Capitol are going to get bored with all of our hiding and fleeing. There wasn't a death today. Something's going to happen soon and then all hell will break loose." He looked at her, the moonlight illuminating the frown between his eyes. "Then what, Prim? What will happen to all of us when chaos hits?"

"We'll take care of each other." She leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling more and more like a little sister again instead of a tribute. "I'll take care of you, Peeta."

She heard his sigh.

Felt his arm scoot around her as a support beam.

Heard heavy breathing from both Marvel and Rue.

If only Katniss were here, she'd know what to do. She'd have __some__ sort of plan. But, if Katniss were here then that would be even worse for Peeta. Much worse. "Peeta…do you still love Katniss?"

The night sounds seemed elevated, brought on by his silence. Perhaps she shouldn't have asked. What made her ask? How insensitive of her!

"Yes."

"Oh." What had Prim hoped? That maybe he __stopped__ loving Katniss so that he could stop trying to protect Prim? But…whenever she imagined him loving Katniss, Prim couldn't help picturing him as her big brother. She couldn't see __Gale__ as a big brother. He was…well….__Gale__. It was different.

"How much do you love her?"

Peeta gave a humorless laugh. "Isn't it obvious, Prim?" He swept his arm in front of him, gesturing to the arena as a whole. "I'd…I'd die for her." Then, in a quieter, broken voice weighted down by hopelessness… "I'm __going__ to die for her."

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	23. Chpt 23 - Day Four in the Games (pt 1)

**23**

Morning came without punishment from the Capitol.

Prim's shoulders stayed tense the whole time she changed Marvel's bandage. Something was coming. The air stung with a threat. Would it come from the Capitol? From other tributes? From Marvel?

Peeta crouched by the river, stabbing fish with Marvel's spear. He missed more than he killed one, but Prim was proud of him. _She_ didn't want to be the one killing fish.

"Four days," Rue chirped. "We've survived four whole days."

"Three and a half." Marvel pushed Prim's hands away. "I'm fine, okay? Geez."

She hurriedly tied off the bandage. There. That clean one would last him at least two more days. The wound was closing and there wasn't any sign of infection. "Stay hydrated."

She rinsed the old bandage in the creek, ringing out the blood and water until the rung water ran clear. She set it out on a rock to dry—the same rock upon which she'd left her fish the previous night.

It was gone.

The tribute was still following them…and hadn't killed them in their sleep. It couldn't be Cato.

Prim's stomach squirmed. She should tell Peeta. He'd want to find out who was following. But what could they do? The person was clearly skilled in being silent while Peeta was skilled at tromping through underbrush like an elephant. They couldn't hide from this tribute. The best Prim could do was hope the tribute would realize that they—Prim's new little tribute family—were the good guys. Well…she was still working on Marvel.

"So what did you do in your district?" Rue asked Marvel as she gathered stones from the river bank for her sling.

"You don't know what the different districts do?"

Unfazed, she ditched a white rock and fished for a smaller one. "Nope!"

"We make jewels. Diamonds, emeralds, rubies…" His voice took on a suave attitude, as though trying to woo whoever was listening. "The beautiful things. For the beautiful people in the Capitol." His eyes searched the area around them, then stopped on a knot in one of the trees. He winked at it.

Prim looked, but didn't see anyone.

"Winking at the camera won't get you more sponsors." Peeta strung the fish on his belt.

"Oh people care about me. They know I'm going to win, especially when I'm up against a bunch of tributes who won't kill me." He rotated his shoulder, testing its movement.

"I like it here." Rue finished gathering stones and then sat by Prim. "It's a little bit like home. So many trees and mockingjays." She whistled her little tune again and the mockingjays echoed it.

"It's boring." Marvel lost his suave tone. "Too boring for everyone watching. Trust me…I know the Capitol people. I'm practically one of them—we like the same things. Entertainment, jewels, beauty…I plan to give them what they want."

A show.

That's all they ever wanted. A show. And Marvel did seem to know how to play into their hands. Would he always and forever be acting?

"Things are a bit different in District twelve," Prim chimed in, willing her voice to be strong. She didn't really want to talk about home, but…it might help Marvel. "We don't have much chance to see jewels or beautiful things but we have our own values." She looked up and caught Marvel's eye. He seemed to look at her more often whenever she spoke. "Family. Home. Unity. Those are jewels, too…for the heart."

She expected an eye roll. A scoff. A jab. But Marvel just looked at her with a curious tilt to his head.

"Even though you don't feel it," she continued, "I view you as part of my family. You, and Peeta, and Rue."

"What about when I kill you?" It didn't come out as a threat this time. The question was heavy, testing, more curious than anything else.

"Even then. I know I'm going to die in these games. And I plan to die among family."

The scoffing Marvel returned and he laughed through his nose. "Oooookay." But it was an act again. For a moment…she saw the real Marvel.

Peeta rose slowly to his feet. "Do you guys…hear anything?"

Prim's ears perked and caught a distant rushing noise. Louder than the river. She couldn't place it. "I hear…rushing. Crackling."

"Fire!" Rue screamed and, as if to punctuate her shriek, a giant wall of fire burst into sight only a few yards off.

"Run!" Peeta hoisted the spear, grabbed Prim's arm, and pulled her toward the river.

"It's not deep enough!" It barely reached her ankles, as though someone had drained it in mere seconds.

"Across, then!" Peeta's panic fed into her own, but not enough to make her forget about the others.

She craned her neck, but didn't see Rue or Marvel. "Where are they?"

"We'll find them afterward." But even amidst the roaring, Prim could tell Peeta wasn't certain…or even concerned.

No time to worry.

The wall was upon them, the heat singing her back as they ran. Tripped. Fled.

No time to think.

A fireball burst past them, grazing her ear and she screamed. Peeta yelped and let go of her jacket for a mere second. In that second, she saw another fireball flying from the right. She dodged, her foot caught on a root, and she tumbled down a hill slope, head over heels, until her knee caught a tree stump and knocked her to a rough stop.

She pushed up on all fours, looked at the top of the hill and saw, for a moment, Peeta standing above, far away, with wide eyes and a cry on his lips. Too far to hear.

The wall of fire sped toward him like a beast on wheels.

"Peeta!" she screamed. He rolled, but the fire swept over the place he'd been standing.

A cannon boomed.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	24. Chpt 24- Prim

A sob choked Prim even more than the fire wall did. Peeta. _Peeta._

But she had no time to cry. Right now…she must survive. She didn't know why, but it was as if Katniss's voice urged her on. __Be strong! Get up! Survive, Prim!__

She clawed her way up the trunk of the tree until she was standing, just as tongues of fire licked the place she one sat. She stumbled down the hill, running pell-mell through the forest, tears providing the only relief from the heat.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't do this.

She couldn't survive.

The heat was too much. It surrounded her. There was no path to take, no way of escape. She continued on, tears burning her eyes and smoke burning her lungs. The fire gave chase until her muscles wore down into jelly, spitting balls of fire that—by some miracle—continued to miss her.

Where to go? Where could she hide? She didn't even know where she __was__. Rocks. Trees. Nothing.

Down the hill she scurried. Stumbling once. Twice. Resorting to crawling as the fire arched over her, licking its lips and preparing to devour her.

That's when she saw the cove in a small rock face. It was her only chance—the fire wouldn't follow her in there, would it? She crawled, sticks digging into her palms, tucked her arms, and rolled through the opening. It sloped and she bumped down the small escarpment until she finally skidded to a stop.

She lay facedown in the earth, tense. Waiting to be burned up. The fire didn't come. She coughed, sucking in clouds of dirt. More coughing. Choking. Vomiting a nasty black sludge. It looked similar to what the men from the mines would cough up before dying from coal dust.

__I'm going to die!__ She'd die like her father.

How ironic.

Black lungs. Tar for breath. Did the Capitol do this on purpose? To remind her of the horrors of home before sending her to her doom?

Air. Oxygen. Each gasp brought an extra spoonful of the sweet breath into her lungs. Maybe she'd be okay. Maybe that one hurl of sludge was all that was in her. To help herself calm, she imaged bright pink healthy lungs, expanding and contracting as she breathed. The lungs ushered in control, sending pep talks through her body, urging her muscles to wake up.

It worked. Her heartbeat calmed, her breathing steadied, and from what she could tell the fire had disappeared.

"Well, look who's here."

Prim scrambled onto her back, scuttling away from the voice until her eyes settled on the figure in the shadow. Out stepped Marvel, covered in soot, dirt, and sweat. He wasn't breathing hard, so he must have gotten here quite a bit sooner than she did. She must have run a roundabout way to the cave—that was the only way he could have beaten her.

"Oh Marvel, you're alive!" The relief poured from her voice and ended in a sob. "It's just you, I think." Sniff. "Peeta…Peeta…" she choked and fought a coughing fit. "The fire got him. He's dead."

"And you will be too, in a minute." Only then did Prim notice Marvel clutched a knife—Peeta's knife with the jagged edging near the handle and the long smooth blade edge catching a glint of light from the cave entrance.

The relief went out of her. Even the sorrow and grief disappeared. But they weren't replaced by fear. Resignation took their place. "Oh."

This felt like such…betrayal. She knew he was dangerous and that he'd been raised with killing skill and without compassion. But she'd come to view him as family, no matter how foolish it was.

She imagined the Capitol people leaning toward their screens, waiting for him to leap forward and plunge the dagger into her chest. Oh, it would be horrible! What a slow death—a stab wound! Not that! The camera would watch her choke. Marvel might stab her twice. Poor Katniss would be at home, sobbing over Prim's death, having to watch the whole thing…pleading for the cannon boom to just end it all.

Marvel stepped toward her.

"Wait!" She held up a hand, but made no other movement. "Please, Marvel, will you just slit my…my…throat? It'd be faster. I won't fight, I promise." She tucked her hands under her back as though to prove her point.

She wouldn't fight him. In this, she __had__ to be strong.

"Get your hands where I can see them!" He jabbed the air with the knife.

She brought them back out, palms up. Poor Marvel. She couldn't blame him. His people did this to him. Maybe, if he won the Games, he'd go on to learn about compassion and family and love. Oh, she hoped so.

He swooped down and brought the dagger to her throat. She released a pent up breath and closed her eyes. "Thank you." __Thank you! A quick death.__ Her eyes flew back open. "Wait…wait, Marvel, just one more second."

In small, non-threatening movements, she shrugged out of her jacket—half of it was burned away, but it still had a lot of use. She pushed it into his lap. "You'll need this, if you continue alone. It's cold at night and…and I don't want it to get covered in blood."

It was silly, but she wanted to be of __some__ use, even when dead.

His fierce narrowed eyes held her gaze. She tried to look past his anger and determination, but it was too much. She closed her eyes and imagined home, imagined Katniss's smiling eyes when she called Prim __little duck__. She imagined Buttercup purring and Lady bleating when Prim hugged her too tightly.

"Stop it." He pressed the dagger against her soft skin with jerky, forceful movements. "__Stop it!__"

Warmth trickled down the side of her neck, under the collar of her shirt. Stop what? What was she doing? Whatever it was… "I'm sorry."

He released a primal yell—the loudest, angriest yell she'd ever heard come from a man. She tensed, cringing against what was sure to come, but the cold metal left her throat. She opened her eyes. He shoved her against the stone of the cave. Hard enough so the rocks bit into her spine. But then he stood up and pointed the knife at her, his eyes blazing with deep hatred, fury, confusion, and rage. "I don't get it. I just…don't get it."

He ducked out the cave, leaving her coat discarded on the ground.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	25. Chpt 25 - Day Four in the Games (pt 2)

**25**

Prim lay panting in the cave, ignoring the warm blood seeping from the small wound on her neck. She heard Marvel's cursing as he left the cave behind.

More than anything she felt…guilt.

Why?

Her actions were tearing Marvel apart. They got Peeta killed. And who knew where Rue was?

Was Prim doing the right thing?

She stared at the opposite side of the cave for ten long seconds, then scrambled to her feet and ran after Marvel, snatching her coat from the ground as she went. She needed to find the rest of her tribute family. Meaning…Rue.

But there was Marvel. What would happen with him? He didn't kill her. He wouldn't kill her. And she loved him dearly for it—not romantically…but a fierce loyal trust. Some might find it odd that she could trust him after he just jammed a knife against her throat but, for some reason, she did.

She caught up to him. He crashed through the singed bushes, shoving branches aside and taking no care to be quiet. The fire was gone now. Perhaps the Capitol couldn't allow it to kill more than one tribute.

Peeta…

A sob rose in Prim's throat. This was her fault. All her fault.

Marvel turned his head barely. She knew he noticed her, but he said nothing.

Neither did she.

They tromped through the woods for a good half hour, Prim sucking in desperate breaths against her sore lungs. With each step, Marvel seemed to grow madder. Before he exploded, Prim figured she ought to break the tension. "Where are you going?"

"Away from you," he spat.

It stung, but Prim plunged on. "I'd like to stay with you, if I could."

"Do what you want."

She didn't dare mention trying to find Rue. Instead, she whistled Rue's little four-note call and let the mockingjays carry it where they may. Perhaps Rue would hear it and know that Prim was alive.

It didn't take long before Marvel lost energy. Running from a wall of fire with a shoulder wound taxed him. He stumbled and steadied himself against a tree.

"How about we stop and try to eat something?" Prim wanted to check his wound, but she didn't think he'd appreciate her bringing that up just yet.

"Shut up."

She did. He kept walking. Her own energy faded and, with it, her mental strength. Against her will, her thoughts drifted back to Peeta over and over. She pictured him up on that hill, looking at her with wide eyes. The wall of fire descending on him. Him dropping to the ground and then the cannon booming.

Her eyes burned.

Marvel finally stopped, stuck his knife in the ground, and settled himself against a log. Prim sat across from him, biting back the tears. It didn't work. They streamed down her cheeks…the traitors.

Traitors.

Was __she__ a traitor? A traitor to Katniss? A traitor to her district?

Without a word, she moved toward Marvel and reached for his shoulder bandage. He shoved her away and she fell backward onto her hands. They stung. Only then did she realized they were burned and scraped from her race through the woods.

"It needs tending."

He ripped the knife from the ground. "It's fine."

"Why won't you let me—"

"Because you made me look weak!" His eyes blazed and his voice bounced around the forest, startling the birds. "I'm a dead man now, don't you get it?"

Her tears came faster, but she refused to allow a sob to break free. "Why?"

His voice came out hollow. "I've failed my district. I'm wounded, I didn't kill you…I'm weak to them. No sponsor will send me a single parachute, no matter how far I make it in the Games now. It's up to Glimmer to bring pride to District 1."

Pride. That was their crown. What an empty victory.

"Why are __you__ crying?" He shot a glare at her.

Prim hastily wiped her tears and looked away. She didn't want to share with him. She didn't want another jab from his words.

"Your neck's bleeding."

She raised her fingers to the spot where he cut her. It wasn't bleeding anymore—the blood had dried. "It's fine."

"Fine." He laid his head back against the log and closed his eyes. At first, Prim thought he was just taking a breather, but after a few minutes she realized he was going to sleep.

"What about the Careers?"

Marvel shrugged.

That was that. He didn't care if they got caught and killed. Prim's stomach growled, but night was falling and she didn't have enough light to find berries. She wept silently for a good hour, cursing and questioning herself.

Had she already become a monster by allowing Peeta to die for her? And possibly Rue? And now…Marvel? __Who am I anymore?__

Marvel slumped to his side, rolling over until he was tight against the log. Prim shrugged off her jacket, despite the cold. She didn't deserve to be warm. She'd slept many heatless nights before. This would be no different. Instead, she laid it carefully over Marvel. She didn't want him to wake and catch her doing it. He'd be angry.

She scooped together a pile of leaves at the base of a nearby tree and burrowed beneath them. They brought hardly any insulation, but they did stop some of the wind. She sniffed against her arm, trying to stop crying. It was stupid, really. Peeta knew he'd die. She'd just wanted to die first.

The anthem started, blaring into the night. She didn't look at the sky. She didn't want to see Peeta's face. Then again, she wanted to bid him one last farewell—see his smile and try to convince herself he was, truly, in a better place. At least death by the fire wall was fast.

She peeked through her fingers, squinting one eye until the sky screen came into view. The anthem was almost over, but not before she saw. Only one face illuminated the sky before the end of the anthem, claiming the day's single cannon boom. It glowed against the black backdrop…

…and it wasn't Peeta.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	26. Chpt 26 - Katniss 3

Dear my wonderful fans, readers, and reviewers: _I'm so sorry I haven't updated in over a week!_ I was on vacation with little internet access and then returned home sick. My brain just couldn't function enough to churn out words for Prim's story. But here, at last, is an update. Sorry it's short, but thank you for being so patient with me! Love you!

* * *

**26**

I want to kill Seneca Crane.

With my bare hands.

Sending a wall of fire into Peeta and Prim's camp was __completely unnecessary!__ But when I look at it from the Gamemaker's point of view, it makes sense. Drive them all closer. Drive the weak ones—my duck and her ridiculous tribute family—back toward Cato and the others. Because cannons are music to the Capitol's ears.

Today has been hell.

First, the wall of fire, then the cannon that practically stopped my heart. I swore it was Peeta until Gale, with a roll of his eyes, pointed to the tribute picture in the right hand corner of our screen. The girl from District Four. I wasn't even keeping track of her. What was her name?

The camera stayed on Prim and Peeta the whole time.

Second, that run-in with Marvel. I thought for sure Prim would be dead, and I broke down weeping the moment Marvel put that knife against her throat. Gale wrapped an arm around my shoulders—he knew as well as I did that she was dead. I didn't even have energy to be mortified by my reaction.

But Marvel didn't kill Prim.

It makes no sense. I don't get it. He's not the merciful type. __None__ of the Careers are. Why didn't he kill her? I can't understand his thinking, no matter how I try.

I suppose, if it had been me with a knife to little Rue's throat…maybe I wouldn't have done it. But Marvel isn't me. He's so different than I am…yet I felt like I understood him. Up until that point.

I'm not complaining.

Aside from the fact I'm still freaked that my little duck decided to __follow__ the psycho killer from District One, the real problem is Peeta.

Peeta is burned. __Bad.__

When he rolled away from that fire, he tumbled into some dry creek bed. He let himself fall, somersaulting down the tiny ravine, weaving wherever it took him until he was finally safe. But that fire swept over his leg and burnt the skin to a nasty black crisp in mere seconds.

"He'll be dead by morning." Gale—always picking on Peeta—has sat beside me most days during the Games, after he's gone hunting. I still haven't been able to pull myself away from the screen long enough to go kill something.

Maybe I should.

"Probably." I try to sound nonchalant, like I don't care much about Peeta, but both he and I know it's a show. I need Peeta to live.

Somewhere, deep in a confused corner of my heart, I __want__ him to live.

Not just for Prim.

This whole jumbled mindset sucks.

Yesterday at the Hob, people gave much more than I'd expected. Probably because I was so desperate and honorless in my begging. But they knew my father—they __respected__—Father. And everyone…I mean __everyone__…loves Prim.

Who couldn't? Even when she's being the little healer in the Games of death. It's sweet. It's different.

It's Prim.

I took the money to the Governor of District 12. He's the one who handles sending funds to Haymitch. It brings me no comfort knowing that money is in Haymitch's hands. I don't know him at all, but I'm betting that drunk isn't doing squat for Prim or Peeta. Thankfully, Madge's father assured me that Haymitch can't spend the money on anything but parachutes.

So why have Peeta and Prim not received a parachute yet?

Now they will. I got them funds. I __did__ something.

For once, I don't feel so helpless. That is, until I focus on the screen again and see Prim trailing behind Marvel.

__Hurry Haymitch. Help Peeta.__ I fold my arms tight, as if I can still my frantic heart. __Hurry Peeta…go save my sister.__ If he can't do it, if he can't save Prim, I at least want __him__ to be the victor.

When he first declared his love for me on national television, I hated him and I didn't care. And he was right—if Prim died and he lived I'd be furious and I'd hate him.

But I see what he's going through. I see how hard it is to keep Prim safe while she makes decisions that put her life in danger but preserve her character. He's doing all he can, more than I ever could have hoped for when Prim's name came out of that giant fishbowl.

So Peeta's wrong.

I won't hate him if he survives.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	27. Chpt 27 - Day Five in the Games

**27**

Prim's gasp echoed through the darkness.

Marvel startled awake and leapt to his feet, knife in hand. Prim leaned away from him, rustling the leaves covering her. He moved toward her, high on alert. Did he think she was an enemy in the camp?

"It's me!" she squeaked.

His posture slackened. "No one else is around?"

"Not that I know of."

He plopped back on the ground. "Great." He didn't sound happy about it. Did he __want__ a fight?

"Peet and Rue are alive!" Her family…still in tact.

"Yippee." With that, he rolled over and went back to sleep.

Prim wanted to nudge him awake, to ask if they could go search for Peeta and Rue the next morning, but she held her tongue. She shouldn't push her luck with Marvel. As she closed her eyes, a flutter of nerves hit her heart. What if she had to choose?

What if Marvel wouldn't join her in finding Peeta and Rue? Would she have to choose between him and the others? The more she thought about it, the more she was certain he wouldn't agree to it.

* * *

Prim woke to footsteps. She opened her eyes and the glare of morning sun blinded her, though not before she saw Marvel walking away.

She scrambled to her feet, groggy. Every movement shot aches through her body. "M-Marvel…where are you going?"

He didn't stop. Didn't even seem to hear her. She slung her pack over her shoulder and scrambled after him, finally catching up. My, his pace was fast!

"Where are you going?" Was he really trying to leave her?

"I'm going to get a spear."

Her shock stuck in her throat. "A-At the cornucopia?" No response, just more walking. She reached forward and grabbed his arm. "Marvel?"

He yanked his arm out of her grip. "Don't talk to me! Just __leave!__"

This could be her chance. No one would blame her for walking away. He didn't want her here. She couldn't even blame herself. You could only pursue a person so much before they rejected love or affection or…family.

But wasn't that the definition of family? Love? Perseverance? Not giving up, no matter __how__ much hate the other person conveyed.

"I'm not leaving you, Marvel." Her voice was calm and soft. In speaking that way, the calmness drifted into her heart, too. It's like someone—God, maybe—orchestrated this perfectly. Peeta would probably find Rue first. This way he was free of his obligation to protect Prim and instead he could protect and take care of Rue.

That left Prim to stay with Marvel. Of everyone in her tribute family, he needed help the most.

Even if he wouldn't admit it.

"I'm coming with you."

He slapped aside a bush branch. "Then you'll die."

The words didn't bother her, not in the slightest. "Okay."

They walked for an hour before the growls of their stomachs became too loud to travel safely. Without being asked, Prim went in search for berries, nuts, and plants. She kept her ears attentive to Marvel's movements, though, because she'd hate to lose him. He wouldn't come find her if they got separated. It was up to her to stick with him. He couldn't even forage on his own.

He'd starve without her.

This thought, at least, made her feel purposeful and less like a burden.

Prim reached a berry bush and picked for only a couple minutes, but it was spares. Too sparse. Almost like someone had stripped this one already. It could be a bear, but the bears ate leaves and all in their attempts to get to the sweet fruits.

It had to be a tribute.

The strand of long hair resting among the middle of the bush, snagged in a small thorn, confirmed it. With a trembling hand, Prim picked it up and held it to the light.

Red. Long. Female.

Both Prim's and Marvel's hair was blond. How old was this strand of hair? Was Prim's hungry friend back? Following them, maybe?

Just in case, after Prim had finished gathering what she could, she left a small pile of nuts, berries, mint, and edible roots in the shape of a heart. She liked having this secret—a secret communication with another tribute. No one else knew…well, no one else except the entire world watching on TV. But for some reason, they didn't feel real. Prim never felt watched. She couldn't imagine herself being interesting enough to garner screen time. She wasn't doing the Games the way the Capitol wanted tributes to.

It took her ten whole minutes to find Marvel again. She became a true tracker, watching for footprints and following them. Stopping to listen for noise until she finally found him, traveling slowly, through the woods.

"Here's some food." She stepped up behind him.

He startled and whipped out his dagger. "Oh. It's you."

So he __had__ meant to leave her. "Aren't you hungry?"

In response, he held out his hand. "Sure."

She filled it with the goods and munched on some herself. It didn't feel like enough. Her stomach would never be satisfied. Part of her spared a thought for the small pile of food she'd left behind for the other tribute. Hopefully it wasn't wasted.

"Now leave me alone."

"I told you I was coming with—"

He pushed her shoulder. "I don't need you! I don't want you with. You put me in danger, don't you get it?"

She opened and closed her mouth twice. "H-How do I do that?" Wasn't she helping gather food? Didn't she save his life? Tend his wound?

He rounded on her. "I can't go back to Cato's camp with __you__ hanging around."

Instead of fear, her heart melted into a glimmer of joy. He feared for her? He feared that Cato would kill her? He did care. "I'm not afraid of Cato."

Easy to say now, but would she feel the same when she faced the machete-wielding muscled tribute by the end of the day?

"I don't care how you feel. __I__ can't go in there if you're acting like my pet. They'll wonder why I didn't kill you. No one in their right mind would team up with you. They won't trust me. They're my last hope at this—they don't know how I screwed up. So leave me alone and give me a chance at survival, would you?"

Prim was wrong. Marvel didn't care. He cared only about being accepted by the other Careers. Killers. He still wanted to be a killer. "What if they don't trust you anyway, Marvel? What if they just kill you? We're too deep in the Games now for them to care much about teaming up."

"I'll take that chance."

"But why?" Desperation coursed through her. "Why take that chance? Peeta has your old spear. We can find him – he won't kill you. Then you'll have your spear and—"

"And then what?" His shout bounced from tree to tree, like a gong. How close were they to Cato's group? Would Marvel be heard? "Then what? I just tromp around with you and your little group? Your little __family?__" He sneered. "I'm not the family type."

"But what about Glimmer? She's from your district. Don't you care about her at all?"

"I'm not the caring type." He sounded less confident this time. He jerked the hem of his coat to straighten it, but Prim caught him wincing and rolling his wounded shoulder.

"May I…check your shoulder bandage?" She inwardly cringed, waiting for his outburst.

Instead, he paused in his walking and stared into the distant trees. Thinking? "Yeah. That'd be good." His voice sounded strange. Kind. Too kind. Fake. "I think it needs to be changed, actually."

He turned to her and Prim took a step back. Why did her body react like that? Marvel's face seemed normal—harsh and emotionless. So what had happened to his voice? Still, if he was asking her to change his bandage, she'd happily comply. She dropped her pack to the ground, opened it and rummaged inside for one of the cleaned bandages.

That's when something slammed against the back of her head and she blacked out.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	28. Chpt 28 - Foxface

**28**

Hammers. Hammers in her head. Miners hammers, drowning out all sound. Blackness.

Prim groaned.

Even that sent a course of agony through her skull. Light filtered through her sore, thin eyelids. Blink. Ouch. Blink blink. Trees. Blink.

A face.

Prim shot to a sitting position, but fell back almost immediately, dizzy. Her head hit the ground and she yelped. Her fingers reached to the back of her head and felt a lump larger than one of her slingshot pebbles. Then, as if remembering why she startled, she forced her eyes open all the way. Whoever had been hovering over her had scrambled away like a skittish kitten.

Prim's eyes finally focused on the crouched form ready to spring—or flee.

A girl. The girl tribute from District 5. What was her name again? She had red hair, a pointed nose, and freckles. She looked like a little fox—a startled, scared, timid fox. A familiar feeling rose in Prim—the type she got when she found a stray animal to bring home, like a baby squirrel or abandoned bird.

She'd never had this feeling toward a person before, especially not a person who was clearly two or three years older than her. But the little fox girl didn't flee. Didn't move.

"Hi," Prim croaked. She wasn't afraid, just like she was never afraid when she found Buttercup yowling in the rain as a kitten.

The little fox girl said nothing. She just stared. Prim rubbed her eyes, trying to clear the headache. Marvel. Marvel hit her and left her. He __left__ her.

She shouldn't be surprised.

She glanced around just to make sure. "He's gone, isn't he?"

The little fox girl nodded.

"What's your name? You're from District 5, right?"

Fox girl glanced around, looked at the ground, then snapped her side round eyes back up to Prim's face. "Vixennette." Her voice was a whisper, barely a whisper—as though she opened her mouth and the wind brought the name to Prim's ears.

Vixennette. Perfect. The perfect name for the little fox girl. Prim grinned. "You've been following me, haven't you?"

Vixennette nodded again and touched her fingers to her lips, then rotated her palm down. A form of sign language, but what did the sign mean? Was that another way of saying __yes__?

"Thank you," Vixennette whispered again, repeating the sign.

"For what?" Prim rotated her neck, rubbing the bulge on the back of her head as she did.

Vixennette pinched the fingers of one hand together and tapped them three times against her lips. Prim didn't need to know sign language to know that she was referring to eating. To food.

"Why didn't you come out sooner? You knew I wouldn't hurt you."

Vixennette's eyes darted away from Prim and focused on the forest—the direction Marvel and Prim had been traveling. Prim didn't blame her—Marvel was intimidating, and Prim couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't have killed Vixennette on the spot.

"How long was I out?"

Vixennette held up one finger. One day. One __day?__ Marvel had hit her hard. Was she missing brain cells? Memories? How would she know?

"Did anyone…die?"

Vixennette held up three fingers.

Prim covered her mouth. "Three tributes?" Rue and Peeta. She just knew it. It had to be—

Vixennette shook her head. "The boy from three."

Breath whooshed out of Prim, though she felt guilty at her relief. Ten tributes left. She didn't know she'd been mentally keeping track. Just to double check her memory, she went through the list of surviving tributes:

District 1: Glimmer and - swallow - Marvel. Her Marvel.

District 2: Cato and Clove

District 3: Dead

District 4: Dead

District 5: Vixennette

Districts 6, 7, 8, and 9: Dead

District 10: the male tribute

District 11: Rue and Thresh

District 12: her and Peeta

What was Prim's plan of action now? Marvel was a whole day ahead of her—he was probably already at the cornucopia with Cato and Clove and the rest of the group. He'd said they had a camp there. At least Prim had that information now. Since he hadn't died, Prim could assume that Cato took Marvel back.

If she went after him, there was no way he'd rejoin her. Besides, then Vixennette would leave—she didn't trust Marvel. That left Prim with only one option. "I'd like to find Peeta and Rue, if that's okay. Want to join me?"

Vixennette nodded. "I know where they are. Peeta is hurt."

"Hurt? How? Who?"

"Fire." Vixennette stood up, lithe and long-limbed. On her back was a draw-string bag covered in a sheet of plastic. It bulged out against her back, filled to the brim with something round. Blood marred one half of the cloth bag.

Had Vixennette killed someone to get this?

In blind trust, Prim followed her into the forest. She didn't make a single sound as she traveled—even Katniss would be impressed by her stealth. Prim followed, self-conscious about every step and noise she made. Vixennette didn't seem to mind, or at least she didn't say anything. Besides, she'd been following Prim for days, she knew Prim's weaknesses.

She knew…Prim's weaknesses.

Prim chewed on the thought and a needle of doubt—fear, mistrust—slipped into her brain. Foxface was sly. Mysterious. Stealthy. Perhaps she knew more than just Prim's physical weaknesses. Maybe…maybe she revealed herself to Prim because she knew Prim's __internal__ weakness for trusting people. For saving people. For…not killing.

The questions ate away at Prim and she hated them. Why now? Why did she suddenly suspect Vixennette? Prim knew how to read people, but in this case she had no confidence. Was it from the concussion that Marvel gave her? Did that steal away her trust? Her intuition?

Or was Vixenette simply…not trustworthy?

She __said__ she knew where Peeta and Rue were, but she could be taking Prim anywhere. This could all be part of her plan.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	29. Chpt 29 - Day Six in the Games

Dear my wonderful fans, readers, and reviewers: I apologize again for not updating. The past few weeks have been filled with more sickness, a death in the family, work, Camp NaNoWriMo, and birthdays. I want to clarify that _I'll never forget about this story nor leave it unfinished!_ If I don't update for a while, it's usually for a very good reason. :) Thank you for being patient and for loving my story so much! I'm now back!

* * *

**29**

Vixenette had endless energy.

On and on and __on__ they traveled, barely speaking because of Vixenette's apparent shyness. Prim stayed as alert as possible despite her fatigue, despite the agony in her head. Dizziness. She couldn't seem to think straight and found her mind drifting away into no-man's land every half hour or so. She'd be easy prey right now.

As they walked, she let her mind drift into a dangerous place of thinking—of __longing.__ She thought about being home with Mom and Buttercup and Katniss, worrying about small things like whether or not Katniss and Gale would get caught hunting, or what Katniss's wedding dress would look like.

Family. It was all Prim cared about.

She never really understood this about herself until now. "Home" could be found wherever family was. Is that what prompted her to start befriending tributes? Because it gave her a sense of family? Safety? Home?

Prim once overheard Katniss and Gale talking about Mom. Katniss had a tough time loving Mom after Mom had her breakdown from Dad's death. Gale told her, "You're born with your family. It's your choice to love them the way you should."

It was the first time Prim had internally disagreed with Gale. Yes, she was born into her family…but family could be found everywhere, in Prim's opinion. Why did she have to be connected by blood in order love people the way she should?

"Do you have family, Vixenette?"

Vixenette startled as though she'd forgotten Prim was there. She shook her head.

"No one?"

Another head shake.

What had happened to her family? Maybe people in District 5 weren't allowed to stay with their families. "Why not?"

Vixenette started making some hand gestures, but then glanced over her shoulder at Prim. "Electrocuted. Power accident. I live alone."

A lump choked Prim. Vixenette's family was electrocuted? It seemed every district had its own horrible accidents—District 12, mine collapses. District 5, electrocution accidents. "I'm so sorry."

Vixenette shrugged and surged forward. "We will reach your tribute friends tomorrow. Let's find a place to sleep. Then you gather food."

Prim's dizziness increased at the idea of going out and gathering food for the two of them. Was that why Vixenette wanted her as an ally? Because she didn't know what was edible from nature? She was just a scavenger?

No matter, Prim would help. Vixenette was taking her back to Peeta and Rue. Prim owed her.

They found a fallen log and Vixenette set to burrowing beneath the soft dirt, just like a little fox. Prim dragged her feet and gathered berries with bleary eyes, not paying too much attention to their colors in the forthcoming darkness. She stripped one whole bush of dark berries and wrapped them up in a washed cloth bandage. Those could be for tomorrow, so she wouldn't have to scavenge more.

She returned to the camp with a paltry gathering of nuts, berries, and mint leaves. She'd grown used to the aching call of hunger in her belly. Maybe that was why she was so tired—lack of enough food. Oh well. Mint leaves would serve to trick her stomach into feeling full. Katniss worked that out when they were starving at home. Prim used to hate mint, knowing it wasn't real sustenance.

They didn't start a fire. The sun set fully, but the moon reflected the puff of air that caome from Prim's mouth every time she breathed. This night was colder than previous nights. Body heat would be a precious gift tonight.

Still chewing on the nuts, Vixenette crawled into her small burrow, shoving her giant round pack down by her feet. Then she scooped dirt over herself and closed her eyes.

Prim stood staring at her, feeling exposed and alone. No body heat tonight. How had she been foolish enough to think Vixenette would become instant family like Rue and Peeta? Tears burned her eyes, but she swallowed them down. She needed that moisture to stay in her body—keep her hydrated.

She dug her own spot under the log, getting dirt caked under her fingernails. It wasn't as deep as Vixenette's when she climbed in, but by that point her fingers had numbed from the chill. The anthem played and the face of the boy from District 3 hovered in the sky. Prim crawled into her burrow and scooped the dirt over herself. It was cold, like getting into a bed that'd been sitting beneath an open winter window for a few hours.

Shivering, Prim forced her eyes to close, trying not to think of the crawlies beneath the dirt or the dirt crumbs sneaking down the collar of her coat.

Morning came with a shake. Prim startled with a gasp. Vixennette removed her hand from Prim's shoulder, then jerked her head toward the forest. Time to go. Prim's muscles were sluggish and her head like a frozen fishbowl. A headache pounded behind her eyes, reminding her of Marvel's betrayal and the new chill in the night air. She needed food. They needed water.

Vixenette started walking, slinging her awkward pack over her shoulders. No mention of food. Prim envied her ability to function off so little sustenance and hydration. By noon, Prim was certain the Gamemakers were enacting a new plan of torture. The sun had grown hot—hotter than an overhead bonfire. She couldn't swallow anymore, but Vixenette trudged on. If only Prim had the small water bottle.

She stumbled. Vixenette didn't stop. Didn't seem to care.

A flash of anger hit Prim's heart, followed closely by surprise at herself. How could she be __angry__ with Vixenette when she was taking her to Peeta? Why was it so easy to continue caring about Marvel when he only wanted to kill them all, yet with Vixenette it didn't come naturally at all, even after she watched over Prim post-Marvel's knock-out?

"River." Vixenette climbed a few rocks and there they were at the river. It was flowing again as though the Gamemakers had never dried it up or scorched it. Prim fell to all fours at the bank and lifted water to her mouth with her cupped hand. The freshness, coolness, pressed back the headache and thirst like a rejuvenating poultice.

She stared into the calm pool of swirling water, allowing it to hypnotize her, drawing her out of the Games for a moment. A waver of color interrupted the flow of cool darkness. Red. Vixenette, above her.

Prim whipped her head around just as Vixenete shoved her face under water.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	30. Chpt 30 - The River

**30**

Prim's first instinct was to gasp, which sent a gulp of water into her lungs. She choked. Then writhed because, if she didn't get above this river water in less than a second, she'd drown.

__No! No! No!__ Anything but drowning. Anything but suffocation.

Vixenette pushed harder, shoving the rest of Prim's body into the river. A hand tangled in her hair and yanked her face out of the water. Prim tried to suck in a breath, but coughed instead. Vixenette slapped a hand over Prim's mouth. "Be quiet."

Prim coughed again. Air. She needed air!

They were both in the river now, the current carrying them away from the bank. Prim shoved Vixenette away and retched until she managed a thin forced breath past the constriction in her throat.

She flipped onto her back and scuttled away from Vixenette, pushing at the loose river bottom. Vixenette looked just as terrified as Prim felt. Prim didn't have enough breath to scream for help, but now it didn't seem like Vixenette was planning to kill her.

Vixenette held a single finger to her lips, grabbed a boulder mid-river and held still, peeking over the edge. Her bluging black pack floated on the water, held up by the waterproof coat she'd tied around it.

That's when Prim heard the voices moving away from them. Not just any voices.

Cato's voice. "They're close by. Probably hiding."

"We'll get 'em, Cato." Clove's voice. "We'll get 'em all."

"Thresh'll be tough."

Clove cackled. "No he won't. We'll just find the little dark girl and make her scream until he comes out of his hiding place by the lake. He was all big brother to her during training."

They were on the bank—the bank Prim and Vixenette had been on moments earlier. Prim couldn't see them yet, but she pulled herself behind a lodged log and yanked her black hood over her hair.

She put it together. Vixenette had shoved her into the water because she saw or heard Cato and Clove. That must have been it. She was saving Prim's life…right? It wasn't the best way to do it. She could have just covered Prim's mouth with her hand, but now that Prim realized Cato and Clove we near, she placed her trust back in Vixenette. If Vixenette had wanted to kill her, she would have. Prim had no strength and no fight.

The current pushed her flimsy body sideways and she clung to the log with her trembling fingers.

Fear. Not cold.

The refreshment of the water rejuvenated her, which was good because they'd probably have to flee soon.

Or die.

"Rue. Peeta," Prim hissed to Vixenette. She pointed in the direction Cato and Clove were heading. "We have to warn them."

Not speaking a response, Vixenette slid beneath the current and let it carry her, but she kept her pack floating atop the water. Why didn't she pull it under? It was a beacon like that!

Prim let Vixenette get a few yards downstream before she followed suit. They'd have to float past Cato and Clove. She didn't want to be near that black beacon of a backpack if the District 2 tributes spotted Vixenette. But, if she and Vixenette remained quiet and didn't splash, the rushing sound of water would them.

Prim let out half her air and drifted below the water. As she flowed, a captive to its whim, she squinted her eyes open. Sunlight flashed through the water above, winking and grinning. Innocent. Joyful. Even as her lungs burned, she didn't want to come up for air. She wanted to stay down there, playing a wink game with the sun in the silence of the river ride.

With one swoop of her arms, she got her head out of the water of a single half-breath. She didn't want to breathe too deeply or else she'd float.

Back down she went. She didn't have the energy or time to worry about Cato or Clove. If she was going to die today, it'd be underneath this lovely water, conversing with the sunlight.

How easy it was to hold her breath when she was calm.

What if she __did__ die today? What would happen to her? She'd never really thought about it before. Mom said that Dad was just waiting for all of them. Prim liked the idea of joining her Dad somewhere…but was that just an adult saying – something mothers told their young daughters to comfort them? Was Dad really up somewhere, waiting for Prim?

Her calm fled.

She didn't want to die until she knew. Until she __knew__ what would happen. Why had no one ever talked about this? They all said, "Twelve is too young." And Prim agreed! She'd barely started life! Was it really such a blink of existence and then…nothing?

No…there had to be something else. Something more. Otherwise, what was the purpose?

She poked her head up again, peeked at the bank. Trees. Green. She couldn't hear voices over the river, but it seemed like she'd been floating quite a ways. After a few more submerged floats, she risked a scan for Vixenette.

There she was, clawing her way onto the opposite bank. Prim swam toward her, remembering all too well how she shoved her underwater. Should she rejoin the little fox? Her heart thudded as she reached the bank.

Vixenette busied herself with brushing water off her black bulging pack. "I'm sorry."

Prim smiled, wringing the water out of her hair. "You saved my life." Right?

"I didn't mean for you to choke." Vixenette turned and her squinted eyes held back tears—or was that just river water? "Do you still trust me?"

Prim wanted to say yes. She really did. But she refused to lie. "I'm working on it."

That seemed good enough for Vixenette. She flashed Prim a shy smile, hoisted her pack on her back, and off they went into the forest. Running. Flying. Off to find Peeta and Rue before the Careers did.

They ran for an hour and the river water dried, turning to sweat. "Soon." Vixenette hardly sounded winded. "Soon." Her head barely tilted as her eyes darted side to side with every step for every minute, every hour. Alert. That's how she hadn't been caught yet.

Prim had a feeling that Vixenette would only get caught in the games if __she__ revealed herself. She might just win this thing. And Prim's heart burned because of it…she wanted Peeta to win. __And__ Rue. And…Marvel. Her whole family. Curse these Games!

Vixenette slowed and started studying the ground. They crept along. Her ears twitched at every sound—every bird flutter and snapped branch beneath Prim's foot. Like a fox. "Here."

Prim followed as they rounded the back of a mossy boulder. That's when the knife blade came out of nowhere, clamped in a small brown fist and held up against Vixenette's throat.

"Rue!" Prim dashed forward. "No!"

Rue's eyebrows shot up. "Prim?"

The words came out in a frantic rush. "Yes! Vixenette helped me find you. Please, she's on our side. She's part of our..."—she swallowed—"family."

Rue lowered the knife and just in time because a magnified voice startled them all and Rue jerked so violently her dagger would have slit Vixenette's throat then and there. Claudius Templesmith's voice congratulated those who had survived. He was saying something confusing. A rule change? A rule change!

"Under the new rule, both tributes from the same district will be declared winners if they are the last two alive."

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	31. Chpt 31 - Day Seven in the Games

**31**

"Thresh!" Rue gasped.

Prim stood still, trying to process what this meant. Something inside her felt joy—hope, even. But When she broke it all down, that still meant that people…__friends__…would die. "Is Peeta still alive?"

"Yes he is." Peeta emerged from the cave with a limp in his leg and half his pants burned away. The skin beneath glowed raw pink. He pulled Prim into a tight, trembling hug. "You're okay. I thought for sure when that cannon went off that it'd be you."

"I thought it was you," she mumbled into his jacket.

"Can we go after Thresh?" Rue looked up at Peeta.

He let out a long sigh and held Prim at arm's length. "I see you've brought us back another family member." He jerked his head toward Vixenette. "What happened to Marvel?"

"He left and rejoined the Careers." The Careers! Prim's fingers tightened against Peeta's wrists. " Cato and Clove are coming for you. We have to go!" Her eyes drifted down toward his leg.

"It's not that bad. I got a parachute from Haymitch with burn cream. You should have seen it when I first got hit. Rue practically fainted."

Rue hit him playfully on the arm. "Did not!"

They seemed much more like a brother and sister than the last time they were all together. It must have been because they survived together the past several days.

"So, District Five…" Peeta narrowed his gaze at Vixenette.

Vixenette's eyes darted around the forest, avoiding Peeta's gaze.

"Prim trusts everyone, but I won't trust you until you prove yourself."

"She saved my life," Prim piped up.

"And you saved Marvel's life, but he never trusted us and never became trustworthy." Peeta folded his arms and leaned against the boulder, relieving the pressure off his leg.

Prim wanted to tell him how Marvel spared her life, but she didn't think he'd see it the same way since Marvel also held a dagger to her throat.

Peeta jerked his head toward the boulder. "Come on, this turns into a cave down below. We've got fish." He acted different, more accepting of the fact that he'd be part of a team now. Not so focused on juggling who to trust and who to kill.

But what did that mean for them? How would this all end?

They clambered down into the cave. It was huge—almost as big as the living room of Prim's house in Twelve. Lines of fish hung against the wall, already cooked from some past fire. Vixenette hovered back in the shadow against the cave wall, not joining in, but Prim went straight to the fish and tossed one to Vixenette. She caught it without a word and started eating.

"I have to find Thresh." Rue handed the dagger back to Peeta.

Prim recalled what Cato and Clove had said. "He's by the lake. In that portion of ground that disappeared on the other side of the Cornucopia." She licked the fish oil off her fingers and then picked out another chunk of meat. "We need to go soon. Cato and Clove are coming!"

"I think they will have turned around after the announcement." Peeta pulled a small silver tin from his pocket and unscrewed the cap. "If they know that Thresh is there, they'll use this as an opportunity to catch him or Rue."

"But if they catch him, we have to save him!" Rue's voice grew more frantic. She scuffed her feet back and forth as though barely able to keep herself in the cave.

Peeta's movements remained smooth and calm as he spread a gelatinous paste on his leg wound. "Then what, Rue? If we help you get together with Thresh, will you agree to part ways?"

"Part ways?" Prim stopped with her hand halfway to her mouth. She'd just found them!

"The Capitol's giving us a chance, Prim." Peeta wiped the excess paste into the can and rescrewed the lid. "The viewers don't want to watch all of us die just because we've decided to join a team and not kill anyone. The Capitol is relenting a little – allowing two of us to win instead of just one. We can't keep taking advantage of the rules."

It felt odd talking so openly about parting ways and killing tributes, but Rue didn't say anything. She just stood by the door of the cave, ready to head out at a moment's notice. Vixenette just ate her fish. What would happen to her? She didn't have her fellow tribute left. No matter what, she would have to win alone.

But Prim wouldn't let her die alone.

"I think we should help Rue connect with Thresh. Then we can see what he wants to do." The idea of traveling again increased the ache in Prim's feet. "When do you think we should go?"

"Now!" Rue took another step toward the opening. "We need to get there before Cato and Clove. They might go try to kill him."

"Or try to find us." Peeta stood. "But I'll take you where you want to go." Resigned. He'd become resigned. It was a different type of Peeta. Not a survivor, but a…big brother. He turned toward Vixenette. "Are you coming?"

She had no reason to go with. Her loyalty didn't run deep to anyone, not even Prim. She looked up from her fish. "I will go for another reason." She took a bite. Chewed. Everyone waited on her. "We blow up their food."

Peeta's brow furrowed. "How would we blow it up?"

"District 3. Explosives. Dug up the mines and reactivated them. I know the path through."

Prim wasn't getting the full picture, but Peeta's face smoothed out and his eyes turned distant as though he could visualize it. "Of course they did. They're hoarders and set a trap." He focused on Vixenette again. "You really know your way through them?"

"Every mine. I know where every mine is." She picked at her fish again. "I stole their food."

She was much more foxy and sneaky than Prim had imagined. She'd been snatching food from the Careers and they never even knew it! If they blew up their food and belongings, then the Careers would have to start fending for themselves.

"So that's why you joined us." Prim smiled. "Because we can feed you without you having to sneak into the Career camp."

"And you can distract the Careers." Vixenette spoke more boldly, as though laying everything out on the table. "We go get her guy,"—she nodded her head toward Rue—"and while you distract the four Careers, I blow up the food."

"F-Four Careers?" Prim had only been imagining Cato and Clove, but Foxface kept track better than her. Marvel. Glimmer.

Prim couldn't fight Marvel. But maybe that was a good thing—maybe he wouldn't fight her either.

"Well, let's go then." Peeta picked up the spear he'd stolen from Marvel. "Let's try to get to Thresh before the Careers do and then we can avoid this whole "distract them" thing altogether."

They left the cave, Prim's feet screaming at her to stop, but she walked on. For some reason, she had a feeling this whole plan would end badly.

For some reason, she was certain at least one of her family members would die.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	32. Chpt 32 - Katniss 4

**32**

I'm doing something dangerous. Deadly.

I'm beginning to hope.

I need to stop because that's exactly what the Gamemakers want me to do. They want me to hope and then they'll want to rip that rug out from beneath my feet. But…can they really rip this rug out?

They said both tributes from the same District could win. That means Prim __and__ Peeta. Even better, Prim has now __found__ Peeta—with the help of conniving little Foxface. I don't care what Prim said, I think Foxface was trying to drown her but stopped because she heard Cato and Clove. I hate Foxface. I hate her more than any other tribute except maybe Cato because she's smart. __Too__ smart.

Smarter than I would have been in the games.

She has a secret weapon in that backpack of hers. I saw her get it. Saw her stuff the pack with it. No one but us viewers know what she's done and it was brilliant. It will kill everyone if she gets them all in the same location close together…which is exactly what she's doing.

She's joining them on their foolhardy mission to get Thresh. Don't they realize Thresh is the smartest of the bunch? He's survived on his own, he's killed, he's tough, and he's staked his claim on that giant field by the cornucopia. He doesn't need __anyone__ to come get him. Rue, Peeta, Prim, and Foxface need to just stay in that stupid cave of theirs and wait for him.

Well…not Foxface.

She needs to die.

I grip the screen and watch them traipse off toward the Cornucopia because my little duck is so set on saving everyone. Peeta's almost walking normally. I'm so proud of Haymitch for spending our money like that. It's perfect and multi-purposed. When he returns from the Capitol, I might not punch him. That's how thankful I am.

That cream can help most wounds. Granted, I would have liked Haymitch to send Peeta a bomb that could kill everyone except him and Prim, but I don't think that's allowed.

"How's your boyfriend doing?" Gale saunters into the house, two dead turkeys over his shoulder.

Good. Something to keep my hands busy.

I don't respond to his jibe even though it shreds my nerves like a potato peeler. How dare he? How __dare__ he suggest that I like Peeta in that way? I told Gale I'd marry him, we've grown up together, we've __kissed__ and planned a wedding ceremony together, and I proudly wear on my finger the wooden ring he carved for me.

Yet he doubts me.

It's so…un-Gale like.

Okay, never mind. I'm not going to ignore his jibe. "What's wrong with you? Is it so evil of me to hope that he'll save my sister's life?"

"You're not just hoping, Katniss." He slams a metal bucket in front of me and flops onto our dusty couch, tossing me a turkey. "You obsess over him."

"Because he's Prim's only hope!" I rip a fistful of turkey feathers out and throw them into the bucket. It brings little satisfaction as they just flutter around, some onto the floor. "What do you __want__ me to do?"

"You can't control the Games. Just come out hunting with me instead—"

"And what if Prim dies while I'm out there?" I squeak on the last word, but I force myself not to think about it. No…she's going to win. Peeta will make sure she wins. "What if Mom's all alone in this house, watching Prim die, and then holing up again?"

"You can't help that." His voice is low and, though he rips out feathers by the handful he does it gently, as though the bird is still alive. "You're with me, now. You can't help your mom. If she holes up again, we'll take care of her, but that's all we can do."

"So that's it? We just walk around and, __if__ my little sister gets stabbed in the back then we'll just go on living as a happy couple while my mother goes crazy?" I hold the turkey, limp in my hand. "What about __me__ Gale? You think I'll recover? You think Ill just be able to go on and be a happy little hunting wife?"

He stares at the floor. "I see what you're saying. I won't be enough for you."

"For heaven's sake!" __Men.__ How absurd! "This isn't about that. This is about trying to move past what's happening in our lives."

"And what if Prim dies and Peeta comes back fine? _Then_ what?"

__What if Prim dies…dies…dies…__ His words echo in my mind and he must see something in my face because his arms drop. "I'm sorry, Katniss. That was…that was stupid."

Yes, yes it was.

He lets the turkey fall to the floor and then wraps his arms around me, but I'm a statue—internally and externally. I don't understand Gale. I can't understand him today and it's the first time that's ever happened to me.

"I'm sorry, Katniss. Let's just…let's just move on, okay?" He gestures toward the screen. "You're right. Peeta will get Prim home. I know he will."

But turning back to the screen brings no comfort, because there's my sister, holding Peeta's hand on one side and Rue's on the other. And Foxface is behind them, tightening the straps on her weapon backpack.

My little duck and the boy with the bread are walking to their deaths.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	33. Chpt 33 - Thresh

**33**

Prim's footsteps grew more and more leaden the closer they got to the cornucopia. They were minutes away. No more talking—not that they'd done much of it during the hike anyway. This felt foolish, and her confidence wavered with that understanding.

Foolishness.

Yet, if it __was__ foolish, wouldn't Peeta have said something? Wouldn't he have stopped them from going? Or had he already given up on the Games?

Peeta threw out an arm and held a finger to his lips. They all stopped walking. Prim strained her ears, as though by thinking harder she'd be able to make out more sound. She heard it—so misplaced in the Games that it sounded almost feral.

Laughter.

Not happy laughter like around a bonfire, but sick laughter. Taunting laughter. The laughter that came before a killing.

Cato.

Prim halted her instinctual urge to flee. Rue led the team forward and they crouched behind the trees on the edge of the Cornucopia clearing. At least now they knew Cato wasn't tracking them, but Rue's gasp made this new situation seem worse.

The Careers had caught Thresh.

He stood in the middle of a Career circle, clotted blood covering his head and dripping into his eye. No ropes bound him, but neither did he have any weapons. Cato, Clove, Glimmer, the boy from 10, and—gulp—Marvel poked at him with spears or swords, like a sick game of monkey in the middle. Thresh lunged after some of the weapons, but the ring of attacks kept him at bay.

Cato laughed.

Prim's heartstrings wept when a brief grin crossed Marvel's face as he jabbed the back of Thresh's thigh.

Thresh was already weak, stumbling around and trying to grab a weapon. He'd go down with a fight, but that's what made all this worse—the Careers knew that and they wanted to whittle him down until he was nothing more than an exhausted plaything. Instead of sorrow, something else built inside of Prim. Something stronger, fiercer, and…dangerous.

Anger.

Before she knew it, she had her sling out of her waistband and sent a stone flying into the forehead of the boy from 10. She gasped—she'd only meant to hit his weapon-hand. He dropped like a felled tree and it launched the rest of her family into action. Rue burst from the trees with a scream, followed by Peeta who hurled a dagger. Foxface ran to the right, toward the giant pile of food and belongings. Prim stumbled after them, both horrified at what she'd done and ready to do it some more.

The moment her eyes met Marvel's, the smile vanished from his face. Something like fury, regret, and defiance jumbled behind his eyes. Cato spread his arms wide as though to welcome the charge.

Peeta bowled over Clove before she had a chance to throw her daggers. She hissed like a cat and scrambled back to her feet, but Peeta fought too close for her to get a dagger out. Rue tussled with Glimmer, which gave Thresh the opening he needed to break free. Two steps took him to Rue and he yanked Glimmer off of her, throwing Glimmer across the field like a ragdoll. Then...

...he went for Cato.

One on one with a beefy guy like Thresh, Cato didn't stand a chance, and he knew it. He stumbled backward, but Thresh advanced.

Prim didn't want to see them connect. She stood in the middle of the fray, unsure what to do. They fought all around her, but the boy from District 10 lay still on the grass, tripped over and ignored.

Had she killed him?

Had she finally cracked and turned into the monster she feared this whole time?

She had no more time than that to think. Someone rammed into her, flattening her to the ground.

Marvel.

He was on top of her in a flash, grabbing fistfuls of her coat and slamming her against the ground. "I hate you! I hate you! __Why__ are you here?"

She refused to cry. He'd never understand the bond of family like she wanted him to. Maybe he was simply a killer and always would be. But he wasn't killing her. He was just…__looking__ like he was fighting her. He shoved his hand in her face, pushing it into the dirt. "Just stay down, idiot."

Then he was off, running toward someone else. Prim breathed hard, trying to block out the mayhem around her. What should she do? A cannon boomed and she shot into a sitting position. Peeta! Rue! Marvel!

Her eyes found Vixenette first, who was very much alive and…wasn't blowing up the food. Instead, she wrestled with the ties of her stuffed backpack, her eyes flitting from the knot to the group of wrestling people, back to the knot again. Frantic. Fingers flying.

A crumpled thick blue tarp laid beside her on the ground, gathered possibly from the pile of supplies.

Prim rose to her feet. Did Vixenette need help? What was she trying to do? The backpack strand was loose. Vixenette pulled the strings free, yanked the top open, and then threw the whole backpack into the center of the circle of fighters before covering herself in the blue tarp.

A tracker jacker nest tumbled free of the pack and burst open.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	34. Chpt 34 - Tracker Jackers

**34**

The buzz of trackerjackers came like an explosion. Prim scrambled to her feet, her reflexes moving her before her brain could catch up. No one else had seen the nest yet. Couldn't they hear the buzz? Sense the danger?

She filled her lungs with the biggest breath she could muster between adrenaline gasps. "Tracker jackers!" Her explosive scream shook her from her shock and she scrambled toward the first person who entered her mind. It wasn't Marvel. It wasn't Rue. It certainly wasn't Vixenette.

"Peeta!" He wrestled on the ground with Clove who had a knife clutched in her fist. Prim used her momentum and kicked Clove in the shoulder. That gave Peeta the opening he needed and thankfully, __thankfully__, he leapt up and took Prim's hand.

They ran. Someone screamed. A second cannon boomed and a sting shocked Prim on the back of the neck. She yelped, but Peeta dragged her after him. "Run, Prim. Run!"

She didn't need telling twice. "What about…our family?"

"Pray they survive." He wasn't going to rescue them. He couldn't. Prim couldn't. No one could fight off the tracker jackers. So Prim did exactly what Peeta suggested as she ran and her breathing echoed in her ears.

__If there's anyone who hears prayers…please protect my family!__

Another trackerjacker stung her arm. Her vision went blurry and, beside her, Peeta stumbled. Then they reached the lake. Prim didn't care if Cato was right behind her or if the lake was filled with poison, or if crocodiles would eat her…she tumbled into the water and let herself sink. The coolness crept straight to her stings, soothing them, eliminating the treacherous buzz of the trackers.

But she needed air within seconds. Her heart pumped too fast from the sprint. She spun beneath the water and popped her head up so as to face shore. A single tracker jacker hovered above her, but she dipped back under before it could sting.

In that short time above water, she saw bodies strewn about on the grass before the cornucopia. Two? Three? Four? A hovercraft was sending down a claw. Who died? The odds of it being a family member were high. Too high.

Beneath the surface she heard a jolted buzzing, like a fly caught in a web. She blinked her eyes open and spotted tracker jackers…diving beneath the surface toward her! No, that couldn't be right. They couldn't function underwater. She shook her head and the vision disappeared. The stilted buzzing continued and she went up for air. The single trackerjacker that had watched for her had tried to get her through the water. Now it was dead.

Her vision swam and her head pounded. The sky turned red and then flickered to purple. Creatures swarmed around her in the water, picking at her clothing, her skin. _No, leave me...alone!_ She clambered for shore and crawled on to the scorched grass. Why was it scorched? Had there been a fire?

As she flopped onto the ground, her head connected with a boot. Ugh. So little energy to fight. She didn't want to fight, but she turned her head so she could see who stood above her.

"You killed me." The boy from 10. His voice echoed around her like they were trapped in a bottle. "You did."

She blinked and suddenly he was on the other side of her. "No, I…I didn't mean to…"

His eyes rolled back in his head and—another blink—he disappeared. The world swirled and Prim squeezed her eyes tight to keep herself from panicking. _I didn't mean to..._ Consciousness fled and she melted into the darkness.

.

The Capitol anthem blared and Prim woke with a shriek. Her eyes flew open, landing her gaze on the pictures of fallen tributes in the sky. Glimmer and the boy from 10. No one from her family. She breathed easier and felt guilty for the relief coursing through her.

A hand clapped over her mouth and her scream slammed against the person's palm. "Shh, Prim, it's me."

Peeta. She spun and launched into his arms. "Oh, Peeta! You're okay! Everyone's okay!" Well, everyone but the boy from 10. And Glimmer. She should feel remorse, but she didn't. What was wrong with her? Was she a monster now?

He hugged her back and continued to speak in a whisper. "We need to go. I've been waiting for you to wake up."

That's when Prim realized she wasn't on the bank of the lake anymore. She was at the edge of the forest near the cornucopia.

"I would have carried you farther, but the tracker jacker venom made me weak. You were out a lot longer than I was, I think because you're smaller."

"Where are Rue and Marvel?" She didn't mention Vixennette. Prim had been wrong about her and she waited for Peeta to call her out on it. Vixennette had tried to kill everyone. She'd succeeded with two tributes. "And what happened to the other tributes?"

"Let's just __go__, Prim."

She shied away from his insistence. "What will we do then?" If they disappeared into the forest, she might never reunite with them. They would die—or __she__ would die—without a good-bye. "We can't leave them, Peeta."

He knelt to match her eye level. "If we stay then we'll die, Prim." He wasn't saying they __had__ to leave. He was giving her a choice. She stared at his face, holding his gaze. Why would this boy give so much of his life just for her? Why would he risk his own survival to protect her?

"You really love Katniss, don't you?"

He sighed. "This isn't about her anymore, Prim."

"It's not?"

"You're important to me, too, you know."

She shook her head. "I can't be __that__ important. Not enough for you to die!"

"That's how friendships work."

"But that's not how the Games work."

Peeta's face broke into a smile, cracking the dried dirt in his cheek creases. "We haven't followed the rules of the Games from the start."

From the way he talked, it sounded like he was open to returning to the others, even if it meant his death. Prim cocked her head to one side. "But…do you still care about Katniss?"

Peeta's face turned somber and his eyes searched the air as though sifting through a visual Prim couldn't see. "Yes. I still care about her. Very much." His hands tightened on Prim's shoulders and she watched his face crumple. His left hand slid away from her and covered his eyes. He said nothing, just shook his head.

"Oh Peeta." Prim hugged him, though it felt like a poor form of comfort for whatever was going through his head. She'd had been so distracted by her tribute family that she'd neglected Peeta. He was family, too—moreso than any of the others. Would she endanger him to save the rest of her family?

Peeta leaned away and stood with his shoulders back and a new air of leadership, but his eyes were a bit redder than before. "So, Miss Primrose…what would you like to do?"

She gave one more glance back toward the cornucopia, her heart twinging inside her. "I'll follow you, Peeta." Deep breath. "Into the forest."

__Good-bye family. Be safe.__

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	35. Chpt 35 - The Gamemakers Start to Play

_My dear readers._

_Again I find myself on my knees, apologizing for my absence. I was on a month-long trip traveling in a different country and there just wasn't time or internet to post. Then when I returned, I had crazy deadlines for my own books and I just couldn't get away to write FanFiction. __You've been so patient! I'm sorry to have let you down. Here is the next chapter in Prim's story. I hope to finish the Games during this month. Thank you for sticking with me! I love you all!_

* * *

**35**

"Eight of us left." Peeta threw a stick into the river and Prim tried not to think about six people dying. There had to be another way. "I think we should camp out until...the number lessens." He didn't say "...until they kill each other off," but Prim knew that's what he meant.

"I hate the Games," she whispered.

"Me too."

She rolled some nuts around on the palm of her hand. The dark berries she'd carried around in her pocket were mostly smashed and smeared from all the running, fighting, and swimming that happened since she picked them. She took what remained and tossed them in the dirt.

What had happened to everyone?

Glimmer died. Marvel was now alone. What was he doing about it?

Rue and Thresh were alive—they were still together, right? He'd take care of Rue, wouldn't he?

Cato and Clove…alive. Murderous. The greatest threat because __they__ weren't part of the family.

Vixennette the traitor. She still lived. What would Prim do if she encountered her again?

There was no moon tonight. Only stars, and they made the forest and recent experiences feel that much darker and doomed.

Prim's head still swam from the tracker jacker venom. She wouldn't be able to sleep, not after all that happened. "Why do you think Vixennette turned on us?"

"I don't think she was ever on our side."

"She had a good plan."

Peeta nodded, resting his forearms on his knees. "And you had good reflexes. I would have died without you helping me get away from Clove."

"I'm surprised more people didn't die." Actually, the more Prim thought about it, the less surprised she was. That nest had been in Vixennette's pack for days. She even floated it down the river! The tracker jackers were probably suffocating and half were most likely dead. "How did she even __get__ one of those things in her bag?"

Peeta glanced up at the sky. "Probably from the fire. I bet the smoke put them all to sleep or even killed some. Pretty smart on her part."

Prim's breath puffed out in front of her.

When did it get so cold?

Peeta stilled, staring at the river. She followed his gaze. Ice. Ice built on the edge, spreading toward the center. Peeta was on his feet in a flash, building a fire and striking some rocks together. "Quick, gather some water, Prim."

The temperature continued to plummet.

She filled the small bottle that remained, her hands shaking by the time she screwed the cap on. A spark caught light and Peeta blew on it gently. Prim imagined him doing this over the bread ovens every morning. How lucky she was to have him keeping her alive.

Chill seeped into her bones with icy fingers. She wrapped her arms around herself. "Do you think it'll get any colder?"

"Maybe."

"What if the others see our fire?" She tried not to imagine Cato's leering face creeping out of the shadows. But with the way the temperature was dropping, he'd be lucky to survive a trek through the woods.

"We have to risk it. The river's half frozen already."

So was Prim's nose. Were the Gamemakers doing this to kill off more tributes? Hadn't they seen enough death today? Maybe they were angry with her for helping save Thresh…or for not playing by their rules.

The fire crackled loud enough to alert anyone nearby. Prim swiveled her head, peering into the shadows, but their mystery frightened her. Peeta reached for her. "Come here."

She didn't feel awkward letting him hug her to give her warmth. Peeta was big brother. As cool as Gale was, Prim never really saw him as the cozy big brother type. He was more of a hunter, defender, and warrior-type.

"Try to go to sleep."

No. Sleep meant reliving the day's events through memories and dreams. Fear over her family. Too much thinking. She almost wished for tracker jacker venom to send her into a short coma.

"Just try, Prim."

Had he read her mind? She snuggled closer, trying to ignore the faces creeping into her mind. She'd killed Glimmer by letting Vixennette enter the cornucopia area.

Worse than that…she'd killed the boy from 10. No one needed to tell her. Her stone took him down and the tracker jackers did the rest.

Prim was a murderer.

A monster.

She was no different than any of the other killers in these Games and she hated herself for it. What was worse was knowing Katniss and her family back home were probably __proud__ of her for finally killing.

That made everything worse.

A single tear squeezed its way onto her cheek before it froze to her skin.

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


	36. Chpt 26 - Too Hot, Too Cold

**36**

So…cold.

Prim couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. She didn't have enough energy to shiver. "P…eet…a…?"

No response.

Their fire was out. Darkness hovered like death's blanket. It took every ounce of energy for Prim to open her eyes. Beneath the icy moonlight, she made out Peeta's face. Pale. Bluish. Frozen.

Her eyes shut of her own accord. She wouldn't mind dying just now. Anything to get away from this cold.

Hot. Sweat. Too much to breathe.

Prim's eyes flew open and her body screamed for attention. Daylight. The sun hung overhead, too close and too hot. From beside her, Peeta groaned. Sweat plastered the hair to his head. She pushed away from him, trying to get cooler.

This made no sense. Wasn't she freezing last night? She glanced at the river. The water line was lower, but no longer frozen. Water. Cool, clear, refreshing.

She crawled toward it as Peeta groaned and rolled over. She plunged her hands below the water's surface, but withdrew them with a hiss. "It's hot! The water is…scalding!"

Only then did she notice the steam coming off the top.

Peeta crouched beside her. "Looks like the Gamemakers have come out to play."

"What do we do?" Prim scratched an itch on her left hand. She knew these parts of the Games. It almost always happened when the numbers thinned and tributes had a higher chance of hiding from one another. People were bored and the Gamemakers were impatient.

"Well, our bottle is filled with water right now, so we're good."

__For now__. That wouldn't be long enough. Both her hands now itched and she rubbed them against the rough material of her pants. How she hated burns! "I think we'd be able to fill the bottle without touching the water. Then it would cool as we walked."

Peeta grabbed her arm. "What's wrong with your hands?"

"I burned them in the water." Sweat built in every crease of her body. They needed to get moving and find some shade, or a cave.

"These aren't burns. Trust me, I'm a baker's son. I know burns. Besides, your hands wouldn't __itch__ right after being burned."

At the word itch, Prim's skin prickled and she pulled it away from him long enough to scratch the now-red surface. "Then…what's wrong with me?" The itching increased. Oh no, had she been infected with something? Was it going to spread to the rest of her body and kill her?

"I think the water's poisoned." At Peeta's word __poisoned__, a cannon goes off. Prim screamed and then clapped her hands over her mouth. "And now I'm willing to bet someone just drank it."

"Peeta, what do we do?" One bottle of water wouldn't be enough. "I bet the lake isn't poisoned. I bet they're trying to make us all go there." She wasn't ready. She wasn't ready for the show-down, they only just escaped.

Peeta stood and took off his coat. "We'll die in the forest, if we must. We won't go meet Cato and Clove."

Yes, but what if Rue and Thresh and Marvel __did?__ Prim's family would be slaughtered. She hated the idea of them all fighting to the death. But this was the Hunger Games. Everyone would die eventually. Prim wouldn't be a part of it.

__Ah, but you already __have__, __a nasty voice whispered in her mind. __When you killed the boy from 10.__

"No!" Prim slapped her hand on the ground. Peeta stilled. Her cheeks warmed.

"You mean…you want to go back to the cornucopia?"

She shook her head and stood up. "No, never mind. I just…I…"—she looked up at him and her chin quivered—"I'm afraid I'm going crazy, Peeta. And that…I'm a monster."

He gave her a hug, which would have been comforting had they both not been covered in sweat. It was just hot. Too hot. "You're not a monster, Prim."

It was easy for him to say, but he didn't know what she did.

"Let's go find some food, okay?"

She nodded and helped him gather the supplies. She'd tell him if they survived. She'd tell him she killed the boy from 10. But if they died in the Games—which was the more probable outcome—then she wouldn't have to tell anyone.

The problem was…the whole world already knew. They all saw it on TV. But Peeta's opinion was the only one that mattered to Prim anymore.

They trekked through the woods as quietly as possible, which wasn't very quiet in the end. The heat grew and grew, the farther into the day they got. All the berry plants were dried up, no juice left in any of the berries. They wilted further as the day went on, the sun burning up even the coolest shadows.

Peeta and Prim drank half their tiny water supply before mid-afternoon. "We have to find a cave," Peeta rasped.

Prim only nodded and trudged after him. Grass and moss turned brown and crunchy. Prim kept her eyes half shut because the heat burned into her skull. Peeta shed his shirt. Prim wanted to shed her own clothing, but not even the hottest temperatures would convince her to show her underclothes to the rich Capitol viewers.

"Here, this might work."

Prim looked up at Peeta's voice. The rock cropping they stood before was the same one in which Marvel had spared Prim's life. She hid here from the fire. Marvel could very well be in there right now.

Prim didn't care.

In fact, she almost hoped he was.

Peeta entered cautiously, then called her in after him. No Marvel. Her heart sank, but despite the sadness there was finally relief from the heat!

"I wonder who died," Peeta mused.

Prim didn't want to think about it, but when night fell, bringing back the icy chill and torment, the anthem blared and revealed Vixenette's sly smile.

"So she's gone now."

"She should have known better," Prim spat. Vixenette was smarter than that. It contradicted her cunning for her to die by the water, but I suppose since she was a scavenger, even her sharp wits would deceive her for the sake of hunger and thirst.

Then again, she might not have died by the water at all.

"Only seven of us left." The number still sounded like a lot, especially because Prim dearly cared for four of the seven.

Her breath fogged in front of her again and Peeta rose from his spot in the cave. "We need to get out and make a fire again. We'll freeze faster in here. This time, let's dig some burrows in the ground. That should help us stay warm enough."

Prim's joints popped as she stood, her feet already numb. "It feels colder than last time."

"I think it probably is." They exited the cave. "I wanted to wait for the heat to subside before we started working, but the Gamemakers are changing the temperatures like a lightswitch. No time in between."

Prim pulled her coat tight around her. Oh what she wouldn't give for the days' heat again! And for some water. And food.

Her tongue rubbed light sandpaper against the roof of her mouth, but she didn't bring it up to Peeta. He was doing all he could for her and, if there was a way to gather food then he would have found it.

They located a good spot with fallen tree trunks and a lot of dead leaves for insulation, but just as Peeta struck a light into the kindling his spine jolted up straight. "Did you hear that?"

Prim's heart startled like a loosed bird. She shook her head, but then a noise reached her ear. A high-pitched, animal yap.

A growl.

One. Two. A pack. "Coyotes?"

Peeta shook his head. "No. Wolves. And I'm willing to bet they're not your normal every-day wolves, either."

.

.

**To be continued...**

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Follow the story for updates! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

* * *

_~If you like my writing, please check out my own dystopian book, __A Time to Die__ (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~_

_**How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? **__Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out._


End file.
